


Theories of Bellativity

by kikki7



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: AH - Freeform, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikki7/pseuds/kikki7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bella Swan is a physician assistant student trying to survive a grueling clinical year. Add Dr. Edward Cullen, a cocky, irresistible ob/gyn resident. Throw in some chocolate, sprinkle with a few of Bella's quirky theories about life, and see what happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This story is going to be chock full of medical references and plenty of ass-clownery. It's rated M for several reasons, mostly because of my fondness for the f-bomb and eventual lemony treats. But there will also be some mature themes discussed, as well as some ob/gyn related...stuff. You've been warned.
> 
> Special thanks to the lovely and talented gals over at Project Team Beta for making my words look pretty and clean : )
> 
> Oh, and of course Stephenie Meyers owns Twilight. I just want to play doctor with Edward.

**  
**

4:30 a.m.

My clock is reading 4:30 a.m., and the alarm is going off. I glare at it with unadulterated hostility through the one eye that I can manage to open.

Ugh. You've got to be kidding me. Who the hell wakes up at 4:30 a.m.? Me, that's who. Because for the next six weeks, in order to get to Queens General Hospital in time for 6:00 a.m. rounds, my pathetic ass is going to have to get used to waking up at the same hour that most other college students are finally making it home to bed. As luck would have it, one of the last rotations standing between me and graduation from the Physician Assistant program had to be ob/gyn. Gruesomely long hours, on-call every third night, and at a hospital whose preceptor was well known for eating PA students alive…Oh, and let's not forget about all the estrogen and va-jay-jay.

_Fuck my life._

I hit the snooze button, perhaps a bit too aggressively, and I'm about to roll over when I hear knocking. Loud knocking. Very annoying loud knocking that is now being accompanied by a rather high-pitched, and even more annoying at four thirty in the morning, voice.

"Bella, why aren't you up yet? I am not going to be late on our first day because of your lazy ass!" Alice. How on Earth can she sound so alert at this ungodly hour? "Come on, Bella. Don't make me come in there. I made coffee."

I sigh and roll my miserable ass out of bed. "I don't drink coffee, Alice. Don't you know that by now?"

I open my bedroom door and face the bright-eyed little powerhouse behind all the noise, who is holding a huge mug of coffee, and wearing a hot pink robe. Her short, dark hair is still damp from her shower. She eyes me up and down and shoves the coffee mug into my chest. I grab it in defense. "Well, looks to me like it's a good time to start."

I narrow my eyes. "It's a good thing I like you." I shove the coffee back at her, and she rolls her eyes and smirks at me.

"You love me," she calls over her shoulder as she walks back toward her bedroom. "And you have dried drool on the side of your mouth. Very attractive."

I snort and head for the shower. Yeah, I do love Alice. We've been friends since PA school started, even though we are complete polar opposites. We decided to get an apartment together when we found out we were doing our second year clinical rotations together.

I think back to the first day of Anatomy lab when she came waltzing over to my group, holding a venti Starbucks coffee cup in her perfectly manicured hands and wearing an outfit that was way too expensive to wear while dissecting a cadaver. But you just can't hate Alice; she's a force of nature. But from that fateful day on, we just sort of bonded. You know how you just connect with certain people for some reason? It's almost as if you've known each other in a previous life or something. I have a theory about that, but I'll get around to that later.

The shower wakes me up at least, and I tie my overgrown, long brown hair in a high ponytail while it's still damp. I'm grateful that I'd picked out my clothing the night before, so I could throw myself together quickly and hopefully allow enough time to stop for breakfast at my favorite bagel place. The place that not only makes the best bagels ever but toasts them and puts so much butter on them that you get a luscious burst of melted butter in your mouth with every bite. Since moving to New York, I've become absolutely obsessed with pizza and bagels. And if I was going to be elbow deep in female anatomy for a twelve-hour day (ew, that just sounds so nasty), it couldn't hurt to start it with a happy tummy.

I meet Alice in the kitchen, who of course looks way too good to be heading off to V-town at Queens General Hospital for God's sake. But I know very well why she looks so damn hot. It has nothing to do with Queens General and everything to do with Jasper Whitlock, another PA student from our class who will be joining us for this rotation. She just won't admit it. I find it rather entertaining. She has her super-sized thermos of caffeine in hand and asks me if I'm ready to go.

I do a quick mental assessment before I head out the door.

Stethoscope? Check.

OSHA approved comfortable footwear? Check.

Hideous white polyester "student" lab coat that I swear on all that is holy I will burn at the end of this rotation? Check.

"Obstetrics, Gynecology and Infertility: Handbook for Clinicians-Resident Survival Guide" in aforementioned jacket pocket? Check.

Handful of Hershey's miniatures in the other pocket? Check. Chocolate makes anything more tolerable. I may have a theory about that, too. They should do a study or something.

I take a deep breath and follow Alice into her car, a cute yellow VW Bug. I've dreaded this rotation all year. But all I have to do is get through the next six hellish weeks. After that, my schedule should be smooth sailing clear to graduation, and I can finally go back home to Forks, Washington, where a nice cushy job in Pediatrics already waits for me.

Bring it on.

**XXX**

Forty-five minutes and a belly full of butter-saturated bagel later, Alice and I meet up with Jasper at the hospital. He is tall and lean, and definitely easy on the eyes. Alice is making a good show of not noticing that his thick sandy blond hair seems a bit longer since we last saw him, and there's a well-groomed shadow of scruff gracing his jaw line. But the pretty flush that flourishes her fair skin when he smiles and greets us with his sweet Texas accent gives it away. Don't think it escapes my attention that his smile blatantly lingers on Alice. These two crack me up. It's so obvious that he digs her, but I just don't know what his deal is. I've been watching this bizarre little mating dance go on between these two all year.

We head over to meet with our clinical preceptor, Dr. James Baker. He has a reputation for being quite a hard-ass and supposedly enjoys humiliating unprepared students who don't know their shit. It's a well-known fact that if he doesn't like you, he'll keep you up to your eyeballs in scut work and make your life a living hell. Which is why I have gone above and beyond my usual OCD study habits and have practically memorized "Blueprints Obstetrics and Gynecology" in its entirety. Yeah, I can be a bit like Rain Man like that. But not all of us have a photographic memory and natural born charm like my friend Alice here. So I do whatever I can to optimize survival.

The infamous Dr. Baker is not at all what I expected. He's much younger, actually, probably in his early to mid-thirties. He has thinning dirty blond hair, cold gray eyes, and a nondescript face. He doesn't strike me as intimidating. But I've heard otherwise, so I keep my mask of propriety firmly in place.

He takes us on a tour of the facilities and proceeds to give details about how the clinical rotation will be organized. During the six week long rotation, we will each spend two weeks in the clinic, two weeks in Surgery, and two weeks in Labor and Delivery. That's one of the good things about this hospital at least; it's one of the few that let you actually deliver babies if you can prove competency. Truth be told, I'm both excited beyond words and scared shitless at the mere prospect of delivering a baby. But I digress.

The three of us will each be "assigned" to a fourth year ob/gyn resident. We will alternate taking overnight call every third night - thank heaven no Saturdays or Sundays…I would just shoot myself - and will be required to attend 6:00 a.m. rounds daily, and 8:00 a.m. Grand Rounds every Wednesday. I inwardly curse Lauren Mallory for getting pregnant and taking a leave of absence, because if she was still part of our rotation group, we'd only have to take call every fourth night.

"Miss Brandon, you'll be assigned to Dr. McCarty in L&D on 2 South. Mr. Whitlock, you're going to clinic on 2 North." He turns to me and looks me up and down for a brief moment. "Miss Swan, you can join Dr. Newton in the OR, 5th floor." Dr. Baker dismisses us with a curt nod. "I'll see you at rounds tomorrow. 6:00 a.m. sharp, 3 North." And with that, he's off to bigger and better things.

Alice is completely pumped about starting in L&D. I'm more psyched that the hospital will supply scrubs to wear during this rotation. It makes the decision of what to wear each morning at 4:30 a.m. oh so much easier. I tell Alice to text me if she gets a break for lunch and make my way to the OR.

I stop at the nurses' station and wait awkwardly for someone to acknowledge me.

"Excuse me, can someone tell me where I can find Dr. Newton?"

One of the nurses looks up from a chart she's working on and quickly assesses me, taking note of the universal "student" lab jacket and glances at my nametag. She nods her head to the left. "Room 4."

I prep myself before going into the room by donning a cap and surgical mask. I realize that my ponytail under the cap gives me the appearance of having a cone head, but I don't really care. Who exactly am I trying to impress, anyway?

I enter the room as quietly as possible and stand by the door, unsure of what to do next. There are two men standing on opposite sides of the patient, both wearing surgical caps and gowns. I wonder which one is Dr. Newton. The one facing me is significantly taller than the other; I'm guessing about 6'2" or so. After a few minutes, he looks up at me. And in that instant, my breath catches. Because even though all I can see are his eyes, since just about every other inch of him is covered, those eyes are, well…kind of beautiful. Even from the distance I'm standing, I can tell they're a striking shade of green, almost like a cat…and rimmed with dark long lashes. I realize I'm probably gawking and reflexively cast my gaze downward and am suddenly grateful for the surgical mask that is hiding my blazingly hot cheeks and gaping mouth.

"You can stand by her head, next to the anesthesiologist." His voice is actually…silky. Yes, silky. Because it feels to my ears the way expensive silk feels to the skin. It causes a strange tightening in my chest. I don't like it.

I position myself where I'm told and become entirely engrossed in an abdominal myomectomy of several uterine fibroids. He's removed three so far, and there are apparently six more to go. They oddly look to me like large chewed-up wads of bubblegum.

By fibroid number six, a larger one that is shaped a bit like a headless Pillsbury Doughboy, I've become a bit bored. Some doctors like to talk during procedures, or grill students with questions to test their knowledge base. Dr. Newton has done neither so far, and the silence in the room is a bit unnerving. I find my mind wandering, and I realize I've become far too enthralled with something that is totally unrelated to uterine fibroids; because in my overcompensating effort to not look at Dr. Newton's eyes, I've become utterly fascinated by what has been in my line of vision for the past hour or so - his hands. Well, more like his fingers. They're long and graceful, and move with confident and meticulous precision. My mind is somehow hijacked with uninvited thoughts of what other talents those fingers might have.

_Why the hell is this room so damned hot?_

My eyes dart up in a sudden panic and are met with a set of curious green ones. I can't help but notice that they're not just green; they're probably the clearest, prettiest green eyes I've ever seen. And they fade to a lovely shade of amber at the center. Except now they don't just look curious, they look a little irritated. Shit. Eyes down.

"Excuse me, Miss Swan?"

"Um…yes?" _Fuck_. I suddenly feel like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. I even sound flustered. I inwardly smack myself on the side of my head.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

I stare at him dumbly. I blink. Several times I think. Words. He's expecting words. An answer. Brain kicks in and gives my mouth a shove. "No thank you, I'm fine."

He looks back down again. "Very good. Then could you please stop shifting around like a five-year-old that needs to pee? It's a bit distracting."

No, he didn't.

It just got infinitely hotter in here, and I can't tell if it's from embarrassment or indignation. I know the look on my face says it all because now he looks rather amused with himself.

_Stupid, pretty green-eyed jackass._

For the rest of the procedure, I make sure I am completely invisible. I don't make a single move, don't ask a single question, and don't glance at him or his lovely hands. I am strictly focused on the pure clinical aspects of the procedure. I review in my head the different phases of the menstrual cycle and different types of ovarian cysts. I do not wonder what he looks like under that surgical cap and mask. Not even once. I swear. I'll bet the rest of him looks like a Neanderthal, anyway. He obviously has the bedside manner of one.

Dr. Newton finishes suturing the incision. He looks up at the ceiling with a deep sigh and rolls his head around to loosen his neck muscles. He removes his bloodied gloves with a snap, drops them unceremoniously on the table, and pulls down his mask.

And I'm dumbstruck. And royally pissed. Because Dr. Jackass does not look anything like a Neanderthal. Not one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

**  
**

 

I am having an internal war right now. Because while my brain has pretty much made the assumption that this man is just a typical cocky doctor with a big ego to compensate for a teeny-weenie—another theory of mine…I could go on and on about that one—my ovaries have pretty much pushed said brain out of the way and are downright titillated. Both, however, are in full agreement that this man is just about the most luscious thing either has ever laid eyes on.

I'm completely disarmed by how attractive I find him. Maybe I'm ovulating or something. Didn't I read something about women being hornier during ovulation? Something to do with nature's grand scheme to promote continuation of the species and whatnot? I try to remember what color pill I took this morning. Yep, probably mid-cycle. But it really is ridiculously warm in here. Maybe I have a thyroid condition? I've always had the hand tremors, now sweating and nervousness…Yes, definitely a good idea to get my thyroid function checked.

I'm pulled from my revelry as I realize everyone is cleaning up the patient. I look up just in time to catch Dr. Newton pulling off his surgical cap, revealing a delicious mess of thick and unruly bronze hair, which looks like he just rolled out of bed after a good romp. He rips the bloodied paper gown off and I catch a quick glance of his broad shoulders and an ass that even looks good in scrubs, and he's out the door.

The other guy, a first-year resident according to his ID badge, gives me a sheepish smile. "Hi, I'm Tyler," he says, removing his gloves and offering his hand. I smile back and give it a quick shake, grateful for a friendly face. "Is this your first day?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'll be in the OR for the next two weeks." I bite my lip and feel my brow furrow, glancing at the doorway. "So, um…is Dr. Newton always like that?"

He shakes his head. "You mean Cullen, right? Nah, he's not that bad. He's just pissed that he's post-call and had to cover for Newton today at the last minute." Oh. Well, that may explain a few things. The poor guy has probably been working since 6 a.m. yesterday. Tyler runs his hand back and forth through his wavy brown hair. "Hopefully he'll lighten up a bit once he gets some coffee. I'm actually going to head over to the lounge and get some myself. Want any?"

I shake my head. "No thanks, don't drink the stuff."

I don't do well on caffeine. I have a slight hand tremor, technically called a "benign essential tremor." It's usually not that noticeable unless I'm nervous, and then I look like a crack fiend going through withdrawal. Stimulants make it even worse. And God forbid I actually  _did_  have to pee during a procedure.

Tyler shrugs. "See you back in a few, then."

I hate this awkward time between cases in the beginning. You don't know anyone, and you don't know what to do with yourself when there's nothing going on. I know I won't get much time to myself once I'm fully brought up to speed, so I take a seat at the nurses' station. Careful to stay out of the way, I browse through my pocket review book, until I feel my cell vibrate.

It's a text from Alice.

_How's it going so far?_

_**Ok, I guess. You?** _

_Love it. McCarty is great. Wanna meet later for lunch?_

I look at my watch and see that it's only 10:12. I sigh. It feels like it should be later than that, and I'm already ravenous.

 _**Sounds good. Txt me when you're ready** _ _._

I hit send in time to see the next patient being brought into the room.

The next two cases are diagnostic laparoscopies, both ending up being for endometriosis. Laparoscopic surgery is pretty amazing. I saw a few during my surgical rotation. It's absolutely remarkable that they can do all these surgical procedures through two or three small holes in the abdomen. And you get to see the whole procedure on an enlarged TV screen. During the second one Dr. Cullen shocks the shit out of me and actually asks me a question.

"So, Swan, did you have any kind of medical background before you started the PA program?" I'm momentarily caught off guard, but recover quickly. It's easier because he doesn't directly look at me.

"I was a medical assistant for a pediatrician's office."

He gives a "hmph" in response. Not impressed, obviously. I internally roll my eyes.

"Have you decided what field you're going to practice in?" He adds, still not looking at me.

Typical question. He wants to know if I have chosen my specialty so he knows whether I have any real invested interest in ob/gyn. I'm sure if I tell him I've already been offered a PA position in pediatrics back at home, he'll probably write me off altogether. So I decide to hedge instead. "I'm keeping an open mind."

His eyes flit up to mine for a millisecond. His gaze is brief, but intense. Like he's sizing me up. I look away first and focus my attention on the TV monitor that displays the endometrium-covered ovary he's working on. I shove my hands in my pockets because now they're shaking like I'm being electrocuted and I'm hoping he didn't catch it.

The rest of the procedure goes by quickly and with minimal conversation, thankfully none of which is directed at me. I can't help but notice that even when Dr. Cullen closes up the wounds, he seems to take particular care while suturing and achieves an almost cosmetic result. I find myself more and more impressed.

**xxx**

After meeting up with Alice at the hospital cafeteria and letting her laugh at me about the pee incident, I'm back in the OR watching a hysterectomy. Dr. Cullen seems a bit less uptight now, and I'm assuming lunch probably had something to do with that. He actually starts to quiz me here and there, asking me about anatomy, indications, and complications of the procedures, and I'm eternally thankful for all the obsessive studying I did to prepare for this rotation. I definitely don't want to look like an idiot in front of this guy. And just when I'm starting to feel a little more comfortable around him and thinking this day isn't going so badly after all, his pager goes off.

"Swan, can you get my pager for me?"

I'm momentarily confused. I don't see a pager anywhere. "Where is it?" I ask, and I'm suddenly flustered all over again.

He glances up at me. "It's in my back pocket."

Holy. Shit.

I hesitate for a moment and can't look back at him. With my eyes cast downward and my face feeling hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night, I move myself behind him and awkwardly move his surgical gown out of the way to expose the back pocket of his scrubs—which just so happens to be covering his very fine ass. I'm in a semi-panic at this point, trying to figure out how to get the pager out of his pocket without touching said fine ass. I've now broken out into a light sweat, and I vow that I will definitely get those thyroid function tests done, and soon. I know I'm over thinking this, and can only imagine what I must look like because when I look up for a moment, to look for the hidden camera to see if I'm being punk'd of course, I meet Tyler's clearly amused eyes. Son of a bitch looks like he wants to laugh out loud any second. I grimace at him and take a moment to compose myself.

"What the hell, Swan? You get lost back there or something?" Ah, Dr. Jackass is back in full effect.

I bite my lip with newly channeled resolve and gingerly grab the outside of the back pocket, which is gaping a bit due to the weight of the pager, and pull it gently away from his…person. I then ever-so-carefully reach my hand down into his pocket, being as precise as possible, and finally reach the pager. I'm in the home stretch now, but the hand tremor is in full force at this point, and just when I think I'm home free and the offending pager is almost to the surface, my hand twitches just enough to graze him.

And if that wasn't enough to completely mortify me, the "fuck" that I hiss reflexively under my breath sealed the deal.

I close my eyes for a moment, draw in a deep breath, and muster up as much dignity as humanly possible. I square my shoulders and hold my head up high, avoiding all eye contact.

"Would you like me to answer the page for you?" I ask. My throat feels ridiculously dry.

"If it wouldn't be too much of a bother," he quips. "As you can see I'm a bit tied up."

_Now that's a visual._

I think my face just turned a new shade of purple, and I wonder if it would be possible for a big hole to appear so I could just throw myself into it. Sadly, no such hole appears, and I must endure the rest of the day pretending that I still have an ounce of pride left.

This is going to be the worse rotation  _ever_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My humblest gratitude to mc101180 for her wonderful beta work.
> 
> Let the games begin.

**  
**

I am relieved to find out I will be working with the "real" Dr. Newton in the OR for the rest of the week. He is a sharp contrast to the illustrious Dr. Cullen in almost every aspect. He has gentle blue eyes, a baby face, and over-gelled, short blond hair that looks so stiff it reminds me a bit of the Astro Turf in my grandmother's sunroom. He is significantly shorter, only a few inches taller than my 5'4" frame. And he certainly talks a hell of a lot more, his favorite topic of conversation seeming to be himself. By the end of the morning, I feel like I have been given a full briefing on his credentials. But it makes for a lighter atmosphere, and I feel much more at ease.

I also observe that Dr. Newton lacks the precision and finesse that Dr. Cullen has in surgery. He's noticeably messier, tends to struggle a bit at times during procedures, and it makes me realize how skilled a surgeon Dr. Cullen actually is.

The last case of the morning closes up, and I am now comfortable in the routine and help clean up the patient and transfer her to the holding room. I text Alice to see if she's free to get some lunch, and I look up to see Dr. Newton approaching me.

"Hey, Bella. Tyler and I are heading down to the cafeteria to get some lunch. You're welcome to join us." He gives me a boyish smile and looks almost hopeful. I get a small twinge of discomfort at his overt friendliness but shrug it off.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm supposed to meet someone," I answer, and he looks disappointed. I offer a small apologetic smile. "Maybe some other time?"

He nods and shrugs. "No problem. I'll see you back here at 1:00p.m. then."

Alice is already in the hospital cafeteria, sitting with Jasper. They are both leaning toward each other, smiling. She strokes the back of her rich, almost-black hair where her chic bob meets her neck, and for a moment, I almost feel guilty for intruding. I plop myself down next to Alice.

"So, Jasper," I ask with a mischievous grin, "How's Cooch Clinic treating you?"

He gives me a brief incredulous look, and then snickers. "Oh, I think I prefer to think of it as Cooter College."

Alice giggles. "How about Hoo-ha Hospital?"

"Poon Platoon?" I counter.

"Oooh, good one! How does Beaver Brigade—"

"Okay, okay, enough!" Jasper begs, laughing. "Are you two always this bad?"

I smirk and glance sideways at Alice. "Oh, this is nothing. Add tequila to the mix and watch things really start to get interesting." She kicks me under the table. Jasper shoots her a curious and definitely intrigued look. "But seriously, how is the clinic?"

Jasper leans back in his chair and rubs his hand over the back of his neck. I'll bet any amount of money Alice is checking out his biceps.

"Eh, let's just say I'm looking forward to the surgery part of the rotation, and let's leave it at that."

I nod slowly, understanding fully. I think obstetrics will be really interesting, but the gynecology aspect didn't hold much interest for me, either.  _Pap smears, STDs, and yeast infections, oh my._

I worked through my essentially tasteless chicken Caesar salad and made a mental note to consider bringing food from home with me. Some hospitals have decent food, but unfortunately Queens General was definitely not one of them. I share a few of my chocolates with Alice and Jasper and then head back to the OR.

**XXX**

Wednesday morning arrives, if you can really call it morning because it's still so damn dark, and I prepare for my first overnight call. I pack up some toiletries, a change of underwear, some leftovers from last night's dinner, and my daily chocolate rations. I'm running a little later than planned, and I'm cranky because I realize I won't have time to get my bagel fix today. Alice is still at the hospital, since she was on call yesterday, and I wonder how her night went. The apartment felt strange and empty without her, and I missed having her around to nag me in the morning. It made me realize how much of a replacement for family she had become, since my parents lived 3 time zones away on the other side of the country.

I meet up with Alice for morning rounds on 3 North. She looks a little tired, but not as bad as I expect. Dr. Baker isn't on the floor yet, so I ask how her night went.

Her pretty hazel eyes light up. "It wasn't too bad, actually. I saw two deliveries and only got woken up once for an emergency C-section around 1:30a.m. But I'm definitely glad I get to leave after Grand Rounds today."

Dr. Baker arrives and asks where Jasper is. I look briefly over at Alice, and we both shake our heads. A scowl crosses his features, and he looks over our heads, just as I hear hurried footsteps behind me. Jasper joins us with an apprehensive look on his face and apologizes for being late. Dr. Baker glares at him callously and hands each of us a list of patients to round on. He reminds us about Grand Rounds at 8:00a.m and then turns to Jasper.

"Tardiness is unacceptable, Mr. Whitlock. I trust this will be an isolated incident and will not need to be addressed again." He turns and leaves before Jasper can reply.

Alice touches his arm and offers him a sympathetic smile. He takes a deep breath and shrugs it off with a grin.

"What a weenie," I mutter under my breath, and I no longer feel sorry for myself for having to skip my bagel.

**XXX**

I finish my last progress note and head over to the auditorium for Grand Rounds. I see Jasper sitting in the back of the room and take a seat next to him. Alice joins us shortly thereafter.

The lecture is on Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, and the speaker has a flat affect and a droning voice. I find myself struggling to stay awake, still not used to the unholy early hours. My eyes start to wander around the room and freeze when they spot a familiar head of deliciously messy bronze locks a few rows ahead.

I bite my lip and look over at Alice, who's doing the head bob thing as she slowly loses the battle to stay conscious. My eyes then dart back to Dr. GQ and take the opportunity to check him out properly and unfettered.

He has beautiful angular features with a striking sharp jaw line, which is clean-shaven today. He is classically handsome, and everything about him makes my girly bits want to climb to the top of a mountain and break into song.

If I could have a police composite drawn of my idea of the perfect man, it would be him.

I'm deeply entrenched in an inner debate over which is more lickable—scruffy hot jaw line or smooth hot jaw line, when I suddenly feel the sensation of being watched. I then realize that Alice is studying me with perceptive interest. She leans in and whispers, "It seems you forgot to mention that Dr. Jackass was hot as Hell."

Damnit. Here I was thinking I was so stealth and all, and I got busted ogling.

I feign indifference. "Minor detail. Doesn't make him any less of a jackass."

Alice snorts and calls my bluff. "Minor detail, my ass. You were looking at him like he was a dark chocolate fountain and you wanted to go for a dive."

Damn Alice.

"Mmmmm…dark chocolate," I whisper in my best Homer Simpson imitation. "Want one?" I reach into my pocket and pull out a Hershey's Special Dark mini.

She raises her eyebrows and holds up two fingers. I scowl at her and hand them over. Greedy little biotch. She savors her candy with a satisfied smirk on her face, and even though we both divert our attention back to the lecture, I know she smells blood and I haven't heard the last of this.

We leave the auditorium after rounds finish, and Alice talks a bit more about her night on call. She seems to really enjoy working with Dr. McCarty, and he sounds like a real character. According to her, he's like working with an overgrown twelve-year-old.

"Oh, and for the record, Edward actually seems like a pretty decent guy."

I have no idea what she's talking about. "Edward who?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You know him as Dr. Jackass. Or maybe you've changed that to Dr. Fuck-Me-Please considering the way you were checking him out back there."

I just roll my eyes. "Actually, I'm becoming a bit partial to Dr. Hemostat-Stuck-Up-My-Ass," I retort. "So, I take it you've met him?"

She nods. "He came by to see McCarty this morning. He just seemed very nice."

For some strange reason, this irritates me. I want her to elaborate more, but she doesn't. And of course I can't ask her for more details about him, since that will just add more fuel to the fire. So I let it go and try to ignore the pang of jealousy that simmers just below the surface.

**XXX**

I'm pretty psyched because since Tyler isn't in today, Dr. Newton lets me scrub in. It is significantly more interesting being able to do more than just observe. He even lets me close one of the laparoscopy incisions on the last case, and I'm thrilled to get a chance to suture. My stitches don't look anywhere near as pretty as Dr. Cullen's did, but I'm really hoping to get more practice this rotation.

By the end of the day I'm completely famished, and all I can focus on is dinner. I walk into the residents' lounge, and it's empty. I take my leftovers out of my black canvas messenger bag and pop them in the microwave. The aroma hits me as it heats up, and I can feel my mouth water.

Just as I'm sitting down at the large rectangle faux wood table with my spaghetti, I hear someone walk in. I look up and see that it's Dr. Cullen. I immediately feel my heart rate speed up, and I berate myself for being such a stupid girl.

He sits down across from me with a brown paper bag and takes out what looks like a deli sandwich and a bottle of cola. He hasn't even acknowledged me yet, so I try to focus my attention on my dinner and ignore how awkward I suddenly feel eating spaghetti in front of him.

"Where is that from?" He takes me by surprise as I am trying to eat as neatly as possible. I look up and see that he is eyeing my food with keen interest. I lick my lips nervously and pray that I don't have sauce all over them. His gaze is now fixed on my mouth, so I quickly pick up a napkin to wipe it clean.

He continues to look at me expectantly, and I realize my brain has failed me yet again. Great. He must think I'm mentally challenged at this point. Why does this man fluster me like this?

"I just brought it from home," I say with a shrug.

He looks almost disappointed and proceeds to eat his sandwich. We eat in silence for a few minutes, until I realize he keeps looking at my food. It's beginning to unnerve me. I finally snap.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude to stare at other people's food?"

He looks up at me, wide-eyed for a split second. Then an unexpected lopsided grin breaks out across his beautiful lips, and I'm momentarily dumbstruck at how strikingly handsome he looks. I can't help but smile in response and look away quickly since I can't look at him for very long without my stomach doing flips.

"Yes, I believe my mother may have said something about that. My sincerest apologies," he replies with an almost roguish smirk.

I bite my lip and realize that I have been continuously twirling the same few spaghetti strands around my fork. If I thought Dr. Jackass was difficult to deal with, Dr. Charming was even worse.

"But, in my defense, that does look a whole lot more appealing than my sandwich." He adds, nodding toward my food. "And it smells delicious."

I blush at the compliment. "Thanks. The sauce is really easy to make, so I have it quite often."

He raises his eyebrows. "You made that?"

I nod, wondering why he looks so surprised. "Like I said, it's easy to make. And it's not like I want to spend my student loans on takeout all the time. So I cook a lot."

He looks almost wistful, and I actually feel bad. "I take it you don't cook very often." I add.

"I don't cook, period."

I nod thoughtfully and turn my attention back to my dinner. I'm sure he doesn't have time to cook with his schedule. I idly wonder when the last time he had a home-cooked meal was. Then I wonder if he has a girlfriend who cooks for him. Then I get annoyed with myself for letting my mind even go there. Goddamnit. I need some sugar.

I rifle through my pocket and take out one of my last chocolates. Not wanting to be rude, I decide to be nice and offer him one. His eyes brighten, and he nods, so I hand him a Krackel bar.

He looks at it, and then looks at my dark chocolate. Nodding toward it, he asks, "Do you have any more of those?"

"What, you don't want it? That's all right. I can take it back…" I say, extending my palm out.

"No, I didn't say that." He pulls his hand away protectively. "I'm just asking if you have any more dark chocolate."

I shake my head. "Nope. Sorry," I say with a shrug.

Clearly undeterred, he furrows his brow. "Really? You didn't even look."

I narrow my eyes at him. Unappreciative little shit. Who the hell does he think he is? "I think I know what is or isn't in my pocket. And I believe they say beggars can't be choosers."

He leans on the table toward me and raises his eyebrows at me. "Wanna trade?"

I lean back, folding my arms across my chest. "Nope," I say, enunciating the P at the end, and quirk my eyebrow in challenge. "And even if I had more, you wouldn't be getting any."

His lips twitch, trying to hold back a smile. "That's not very nice," he retorts. "Didn't your mother teach you that sharing is caring?"

I bite the inside of my lip and feel my nostrils flare. Part of me wants to kick him in the shin, and another part of me wants to straddle him and have my wicked way with him.

Stupid ovaries.

" _My_  mother taught  _me_ lots of things. Including  _manners_. And for the record, I do not give my dark chocolate to just anyone. And you don't deserve."

His face is a mask of mock indignation. "I'm not sure, but I think I may be offended."

"Oh, I think you can be sure."

That fuckhot lopsided grin makes its appearance again. "Well then, please enlighten me. How exactly does someone achieve deserving status in your book?"

"You have to earn dark chocolate status, Dr. Cullen. And at this point, you barely make Krackle status."

He tilts his head to the side and rubs his chin. "Oh really? So you're telling me there is a hierarchy in chocolate status? How exactly does that work, then?"

I consider it for a moment. "Well, Krackel is pretty much entry level. Mr. Goodbar would be the next level, then milk chocolate. You have to be pretty darn special to be worthy of dark chocolate status."

"I see. You seem to have this pretty well thought out." He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. It does not escape my attention that those arms are sinewy and muscular, but by no means bulky.

"Oh, I take my chocolate very seriously," I reply and pop a piece of the candy into my mouth. I luxuriate in the deep rich flavor as it melts on my tongue. Dr. Wiseass is watching in rapt fascination. Suddenly, his pager goes off, and it actually makes him jump slightly. I fight back a smug grin as he looks at the number.

"Seen any deliveries yet, Swan?" he asks as he stands up and clears away the remains of his dinner.

I shake my head. Oh boy, am I ready for this? Well, ready or not, it's show time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick heads up: this chapter contains mildly graphic descriptions of childbirth and some other medical stuff. If that kind of thing squicks you out, you may want to skim : )

_Damn_  his legs are long! I struggle to keep up with him as I follow him over to Labor & Delivery. He heads directly over to the nurses' station. A beautiful tall blonde woman in fitted cranberry colored scrubs walks over to us. She looks like every man's nurse fantasy, with curves in all the right places and a face that belongs on a magazine cover. She glances over me briefly, and then turns her attention to Edward. I suddenly feel very plain and mousey and shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from fidgeting.

"Hey, Edward," she greets him with a small smile, and hands him a chart. "Patient in room six is at four centimeters. Contractions are regular with some variable decelerations. I put her on her side and the fetal heart rate seems to have improved. I need orders for an epidural."

He flips through the chart. "There weren't any written already?"

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Up until 10 minutes ago, she didn't want one."

"Then, go ahead and call Anesthesia."

He turns to me as we walk over to the room. "What's the most common cause of early decelerations in fetal heart rate?"

Easy one. "Head compression of the umbilical cord. Turning the patient on their side relieves the pressure on the cord."

He nods. "Labor can progress pretty quickly after they reach four centimeters. We'll check her to see how far along she is and take it from there."

When we reach room six, I hear the patient before I see her. She is crying out in pain, and I feel my heart start racing. The closest thing I'd ever seen to an actual delivery was a circa 1970's film they showed us in class. I don't remember there being screaming in the film.

The woman looks young, probably close to my age. She has dark long hair that looks sweaty and tousled and a dark olive complexion. A man that I'm assuming is the father is sitting next to her, holding her hand as she struggles through a contraction. Her breathing starts slowing down as the contraction subsides, but her eyes look wild and her face is panicked.

"Hello, Mrs. Montes. I'm Dr. Cullen," he greets her warmly, and takes her free hand with a compassionate smile. "It looks like your labor is coming along very well."

She gives him a tight smile. "Is it too late for an epidural?" she rasps out, her voice scratchy from her screaming. "I really tried to do without it, but the pain, I didn't expect…" and she abruptly stops speaking. I can see her face and body tense up as another contraction hits her. I glance over at her monitor, and see that her contractions have become extremely regular and close together. Edward waits patiently as she writhes and cries out, giving her words of assurance.

"I'm going to check you to see how dilated you are." He then lifts the sheet covering her lower half and checks her progress. He looks back up at her quickly, his face calm and composed. "You're almost six centimeters. This is your first baby, so you should still have plenty of time. The anesthesiologist should be here soon, so try to hang in there." He tells me he'll be back and leaves the room.

Soon turns into a bit longer than soon, and Mrs. Montes is practically clawing the walls. I start talking to her in between contractions to keep her distracted.

"So do you know the sex of the baby?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "This is our first baby. It took so long for us to get pregnant, and we really just wanted to be surprised." She gazes at her husband, giving him a loving smile, which is quickly replaced by a horrible grimace as another contraction rips through her. "Holy fuck!" she screams loudly. "Where the  _fuck_ is the fucking anesthesiologist?" My eyes go wide, and she lets out a loud groan. "Oh my God, I can't do this. I have to push," she cries out in a panic. "NOW!"

Oh shit, where the fuck  _is_  the fucking anesthesiologist? The hell with that—where the fuck is Edward? I rush into the hallway and see him and the blonde Barbie doll briskly walking toward the room. He quickly puts on a gown and gloves and checks the patient.

"She's already crowning," he says. "Mrs. Montes, you're at ten centimeters already. I'm going to need you to start pushing as hard as you can when I say it's okay."

"What about the epidural? Can't I get an epidural?" she pleads, her voice frantic.

"I'm sorry, it's too late now. Your baby seems to be in a bit of a rush. You can do this," he reassures her, his voice commanding and confident. He glances at the monitor, seeing a contraction starting. "I need you to push now," he tells her firmly. "Keep pushing until I say to stop."

I watch in a combination of fascination and horror as Edward calmly coaches her through the delivery. Poor Mrs. Montes is puffing and screaming and swearing as if she's being cracked in half, and somehow it all seems a hell of a lot messier than I expected. At this point, I have officially decided not to have any children.  _Ever_. Edward performs a small episiotomy to help her along. When the baby's head finally pops out—looking bloated and kind of purplish gray and slimy—all I can think of is that scene from  _Alien_.

"You're doing great," Edward praises her. "Your baby's head is out, and the hardest part is over. Take a deep breath, and wait until I tell you to push again." He waits for her next contraction, yells "Push!" and she pops the rest of the little bugger out with a long, gut-wrenching scream. His hands and long fingers securely cradle the tiny human as he guides it out. He hands the now screaming baby quickly to Nurse Barbie, who wraps it in a towel and cleans it off briskly before wrapping it up and giving it back to Edward. He then takes the baby and places it into Mrs. Montes' trembling arms.

"Congratulations," he tells her with a stunning smile. "It's a beautiful baby girl."

Mrs. Montes starts to sob, and the way she looks at her brand new baby is just indescribable. It's a combination of joy, wonder, and pure unadulterated love. I feel my eyes mist up and a lump form in my throat, and I glance over at Edward. The look of proud satisfaction on his face is just as priceless.

**XXX**

After Edward completes the delivery, he begins to suture the episiotomy. "So what did you think?" he asks.

"I think I finally understand why I'm an only child." That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?

He chuckles softly. I stand behind him and watch as he carefully repairs the tear in this poor woman's hoo-ha after the freakish trauma it's endured. And I'm not going to lie to you—something about it kind of squicks me out. I mean, I've watched and assisted in countless different surgeries. None of them ever bothered me, but this is somehow…different. After a few minutes, I have strangely become aware that the room seems to be getting a bit warmer, but I almost feel as if I'm getting chills. A peculiar uneasy feeling forms in the pit of my stomach, and I can feel a dull ache building somewhere in the back of my head. I look down to the floor, but for some reason, the tiles look a little…wavy…

I suddenly feel like I need some fresh air.  _Immediately_. I think I mumble something about getting a drink of water or something and just as I turn to leave, my feet don't seem to have gotten the memo, and the last thing I remember is feeling something hit my head before the entire room fades to black.

**XXX**

I am unexpectedly assaulted with the caustic smell of ammonia. My eyes shoot open and I feel disoriented, confused.

"Well, good morning, sunshine," a semi-familiar voice calls to me. I squint to try to focus, and my eyes meet a set of pretty, large deep blue ones. I realize to my dismay that it's Nurse Barbie holding a foul vial of smelling salts and I groan.

"Oh good God, please tell me I didn't do what I think I did," I mutter, completely humiliated.

Barbie lets out an exasperated sigh. "Don't think you're the first one it's happened to. Ready to stand up?" She holds out a hand to me and helps me up. I feel strange and wobbly, and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. She supports me as I walk and leads me over to a chair. I stop in my tracks.

"No, I'm fine. Please, just let me get out of this room." So I can find a large volcano to jump into.

"Rosalie, go ahead and take her back to the residents' lounge," Edward says without turning around. "She hit her head, so make her lie down for a while."

"My head is fine," I insist.

Edward turns around and glares at me, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenches it. It's actually pretty hot. But that look tells me loud and clear that this is not open for discussion. Feeling embarrassed and utterly defeated, I lower my eyes and let Barbie take me back to the lounge.

I'm quiet most of the way. Sheer mortification can do that to a girl. I finally decide to man up when we get there and thank her for the escort.

"Oh, and I'm Bella, by the way. Though right now I feel like my name should be 'Mud.' "

She tosses her pretty, perfect, long blonde hair behind her shoulders. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get over it. There's a water cooler if you want. And it may not be a bad idea if you do lay down for a bit." With that, she heads back to L&D.

Nurse Barbie doesn't strike me as a very warm and fuzzy kind of gal.

My head still feels a little sore, so I decide that lying down for a few minutes can't hurt. I curl up onto the pleather dorm-room style couch and close my eyes.

I realize I must have actually fallen asleep when something hits my forehead and startles me awake. I open my eyes and there he is, Dr. Smug Bastard, sitting in the chair next to me with a guilty grin plastered across his face.

I give him my best death glare and think how nice it would be to be able to shoot laser beams out of my eyes so I could singe his hair. Hmmm…that makes for a rather entertaining visual. "Did you actually just throw something at me?" I snap.

"If you recall, you passed out and hit your head. What kind of a doctor would I be if I let you fall asleep with a possible concussion?"

I grit my teeth. "How about this—you stand around and watch some guy get his balls sewn back together after something the size of a watermelon comes shooting out of them, and let's see how it makes  _you_  feel."

"Whoa, easy there," he says, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender. "I'm just checking to see if you're all right."

I moan and cover my eyes with my forearm. "Can't we just pretend nothing happened? Please?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Well, I can be bought."

I sit up and raise my eyebrows back at him. "The chocolate is non-negotiable. You cannot cheat your way up the hierarchy with blackmail. I'm not that kind of girl."

He looks pensive for a moment, and I can virtually see the light bulb go off over his head. "I have to respect a woman who doesn't give her dark chocolate up to just anyone," he says with a sly smirk.  _Punk._  "And I have a better idea, anyway."

I fold my arms across my chest and cross my legs. "Oh, I can't wait to hear this one," I grumble. "Do tell."

"It's very simple, actually. You're going to be taking call with me for the next couple of weeks. All I ask is that the nights you're on that you bring me some of whatever you've made for dinner."

I'm taken a bit by surprise, and even flattered. I consider this for a moment. I can definitely work this to my advantage. "I'll tell you what. If you promise to teach me how to suture as well as you do, you've got yourself a deal."

He flashes me that delicious asymmetrical smile that does funny things to my insides and gives a firm nod of his head. "Done and done."

**XXX**

It's been a quiet night. I'm not sure what I actually expected, but there hasn't been much of anything going on. Not like I'm complaining. It's been a long day, and I'm just praying it doesn't start getting busy in the middle of the night. I use the down time to study, and Edward tinkers around on a netbook in his lap.

After a while, he closes the laptop and places it on the coffee table in front of us. Edward stretches, then leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on the small table. "So, Swan, what do you plan to do after graduation?"

"I'll probably go back home and get a job somewhere around there," I answer, neglecting to fill in the details about the position waiting for me back at my pediatric practice.

"And where would that be?" he asks, his bright green eyes inquisitive.

I shift around in my seat. "Forks, Washington. Most people have never heard of it." Alice teases me all the time about being from Podunk, Washington. Truth be told, it really is a small, rather uninteresting town. But it's where I grew up, and to me, it's home.

A strange look clouds his features. He glares at me in a peculiar way, almost like he's trying to read me.

"Forks." He says it as if it's a statement, though he's obviously questioning me.

I'm a bit confused by his reaction. I don't say anything, and wonder if he has heard of it and I've just given him new ammunition to tease me with. And then, out of nowhere, he leans his head back and starts laughing.

_I'm sorry, but did I miss something?_

His laughter dies down, and he runs his hands through his thick, messy hair. I'm staring at him stupidly, trying to figure out the joke I wasn't let in on. "Oh, that's a good one," he finally says. "Emmett put you up to this, right?"

I'm beyond baffled at this point. "Who the hell is Emmett?"

He studies me for a minute, and his expression becomes doubtful. "You're honestly telling me you're from Forks."

I bite my lip and look around the room, feeling uneasy again. His mood swings are giving me whiplash.

Sensing my discomfort, his face softens. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "But I don't think I've ever met another person from Forks before."

My eyes widen. "You mean…" I start, scrutinizing him and seeing that he looks completely sincere. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not," he confirms. "I grew up there."

A smile breaks out across my face, and he returns a weak smile in response. "Holy crow, that's just…crazy." I shake my head in disbelief. "Do you still have family there?"

"My parents still live there."

I chew on this for a while. He grew up there, too. He went to the same high school that I did. Seriously, what are the odds? Then a random thought pops into my head. "Your father isn't also a doctor by any chance, is he?"

"Yes he is," he verifies. I chuckle softly to myself. Of course the hot Emergency Room doctor at Forks Community Hospital had to be his father. "I take it you've met him?" he adds.

I look down at the book in my lap and fidget with the top corner of one of the pages. "I think I may have been to the ER once." Or twice…I definitely don't want to get into that right now. And by the expression on his face, it doesn't look like he wants to, either. His mood seems to have shifted somehow, and he's become more aloof and almost distracted. I shrug timidly. "Small world."

He mutters something under his breath that almost sounds like, "You have no idea," but I can't be sure. It doesn't seem as if it was even addressed to me.

He stands up abruptly and scratches at the back of his neck. "I'm going to go get some coffee," he says, and walks toward the doorway. He pauses for a moment and turns his head back toward me without actually looking at me. "Do you want anything from Starbucks?"

"No thanks," I answer softly, as I glance over at the coffee maker in the room. He nods and walks out, leaving me alone and wondering what the hell just happened.

**XXX**

I must have nodded off, because he startles me when he finally returns to the residents' lounge. I glimpse at the clock on the wall and see that it's a little after 11:00 p.m., over an hour later. He walks toward me but only picks up the laptop on the table. He looks tired.

"Why don't you get some sleep," he says, gesturing with his head toward one of the on-call rooms.

My neck feels stiff from the awkward position I fell asleep in. I knead the back of it to loosen the muscles. "Isn't there something I can do? Is there anything going on I can help with?" I ask. I feel like I've done nothing all night. Oh, I stand corrected. Nothing except pass out and make a complete fool of myself, and somehow aggravate Dr. Moody.

"It's pretty quiet tonight. I'll page you if something comes up." I try to read his face, but his expression is impassive.

"Okay," I murmur, and get up to grab my bag. I can feel him watch me as I head into the call room.

"Hey, Swan," he calls to me. I turn my head to look back at him. "How's your head?"

"Oh, it's fine," I say dismissively. I wish I could say the same for what's going on inside it. "Goodnight."

I hear him quietly answer "goodnight" as I close the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest gratitude to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for being such wonderful betas.

It comes as a complete surprise to me that I didn't get paged once for the rest of the night. Not that I actually slept. I tossed and turned for the most part, finding it impossible to get comfortable in the awkward twin sized bed and scratchy hospital-grade sheets. It also worried me that the pager wasn't going off at all, and I found myself checking it repeatedly through the night just to make sure that I hadn't slept through a page or the batteries weren't dead. It also goes without saying that the way my night ended with Edward left me feeling a bit…unsettled.

I shower and dress quickly, and take the stairwell up to 3 North. I'm ten minutes early, but Alice and Jasper are already there, both with coffees in their hands. Jasper is in the middle of what must be a rather impressive story because Alice is listening with wide-eyed absorption. She sees me coming and waves me toward them urgently.

"Bella, you have to hear this," she says quietly. "Jasper, tell her what Baker did."

He draws in a deep breath and glances around the hallway cautiously with clear irritation. "He had me pulled from clinic yesterday to assist with a Bartholin's abscess that was the size of a golf ball. And let me tell you, ladies—you really haven't lived until you have the opportunity to partake in one of those."

I wrinkle my nose and cringe. A Bartholin's abscess is a particularly nasty "eruption"  _down there_. When they're that big, they have to be incised and drained. I shudder with disgust, and Jasper nods in agreement. "Yeah. I may very well be scarred for life. I think I'm actually grateful that I'm single at the moment."

His eyes dart sheepishly over to Alice, who keeps a perfect sympathetic poker face in place. I knew he had mentioned a girlfriend back when school started, and I had assumed that this is what prevented him from acting on the obvious chemistry he and Alice shared. Apparently, this is no longer the case. And judging from the way Alice's eyes are dancing with impish conspiracy, I have a feeling his grateful single status may be a temporary condition. He draws a long swig from his coffee cup and swallows thickly. "I think it's a safe bet that I won't be late  _ever_  again."

It seems Dr. Baker likes to live up to his reputation. As if on cue, he leisurely strolls up to us and greets us with a self-righteous smirk. "Good morning. I see everyone was able to make it on time this morning." He gives Jasper a pointed look as he hands us our list of patients for morning rounds.

"I heard you had a quiet evening yesterday, Miss Swan." I hope and pray that was the only thing he heard about. "Rest assured, that's not the norm around here. I hope your future nights on call will be a bit more stimulating." I inwardly roll my eyes. "I'll see the three of you tomorrow morning, same time, same place."

We watch him walk away down the hall, and as soon as he turns the corner, Alice hisses, "Fucktard." Ah, that's my girl. Don't hold anything back.

I snicker under my breath. "Well, not to be rude, but I'm about ready to get out of here and get some sleep in a real bed. I'm getting rounds over with and going home."

I browse through my list, and sure enough, Mrs. Montes is on it. Sigh…will the humiliation ever end?

I decide to save her for last and work my way through the other patients on my list. I remove some Cesarean section staples, write my progress notes, write some orders to treat Ms. Noonan's gargantuan post-delivery hemorrhoids, and discharge two women home. It's a glamorous life an obstetrician leads.

By this point, I'm seriously questioning the motivation and sanity of anyone specializing in this field, especially men. Seriously. Are they perverts? Women haters? Do they secretly wish they  _were_  women? Do they have mommy issues, and this is their closest way of getting back into the womb? This line of thinking brings me back to Edward, and I am suddenly wondering if any of that could explain his virtual shutdown after he found out I was from Forks. Did he have a horrible upbringing he was running away from? Is it possible that someone there broke his heart and he now hated women? Is it possible that I've been reading too much fanfiction, and he's simply just an arrogant jackass who doesn't want to discuss anything personal with someone like me?

Damn, I'm such a stupid girl.

I take a deep breath to try to bring myself back to reality and go to see Mrs. Montes. When I walk into her room, she is sitting in a chair feeding her swaddled newborn a bottle.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Montes," I greet her with a smile. "How are you feeling today?"

She looks up at me, and I take note of how different she looks today. Her face is relaxed, and she appears to be very serene. I could almost say she is glowing. She recognizes me and smiles. "Ah, Miss Bella. Maybe I should ask you how _you_  are feeling today."

I sit down on the bed across from her and fold my hands in my lap. "I'm so sorry about that little…umm…mishap," I offer, trying to swallow down my embarrassment. "But obviously, I'm fine. Did you get some rest last night?" I ask, attempting to redirect the conversation back to business and away from me.

"Believe it or not, I slept better than I have in months, and that's even with these damn people waking me up every four hours to take my blood pressure and temperature. You have no idea how amazing it feels to be able to sleep on my stomach again."

I chuckle softly. "Well, you look great." Especially considering what her poor body just went through. "Are you almost finished feeding the baby? I'll need to examine you when you're ready."

"Oh, she's pretty much finished," she says and puts the bottle down. She adjusts the blanket around her baby, and leans in to give her a tender kiss on her forehead. Mrs. Montes then slowly rises out of her chair and carefully places her newborn back in the plexiglass bassinet. I stand and help her lay down on the hospital bed.

"So what did you decide to name her?" I ask as I gently palpate her deflated abdomen.

She gazes lovingly over at her sleeping daughter. "Sophia Grace," she answers. I find it hard to reconcile her with the screaming, cursing woman I saw only a few hours before.

"That's a beautiful name. And a beautiful baby." I finish my exam and review her vitals. "Congratulations again."

"Thank you so much, Bella." She beams at me. "She's worth it. Every minute of it—she was so worth it."

And at that moment, seeing that incomparable blissful look on her face, for the first time I think I actually understand.

**XXX**

"Honey, I'm home," Alice calls out in a sing-song voice as she walk in the door around 6:30p.m..

"How was your day, dear?" I answer sweetly from the kitchen as I pull a set of oven mitts out of a drawer.

She plops herself down onto the couch and dramatically sprawls her limbs as she sinks into it. "I am so beat," she whines as she kicks off her shoes and draws in a deep sigh. Then her head perks up, and her face brightens. "Is that macaroni and cheese I smell?"

I grin and pull the large bubbly hot serving dish of cheesy gooey goodness from the oven, drawing in the delicious, comforting aroma. She's at my side instantly. "Oh my God, Bella, I so totally love you." She practically vibrates with giddiness. "I may just become a lesbian for you."

I snort. "Considering that's the best offer I've had in ages, I may just take you up on that someday. But something tells me Jasper wouldn't be too happy about that."

She rolls her eyes but gives me a naughty grin. "Maybe, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind watching."

I groan and hip-check her tiny ass out of my way. "Just shut up and get some plates."

"Geez, how many people do you plan on feeding tonight, anyway?" she questions, staring at the large tray of food. She sets the plates down on the counter and grabs silverware from the drawer.

I spoon a large serving onto each dish, and sit with her at the small table in the kitchen. "I decided to make an extra large batch so I could freeze the rest. I want to have food we can bring in when we're on call. I'm going to cook some more this weekend and just stock up the freezer." I really love to cook, almost as much as I enjoy eating.

"Awesome idea," Alice compliments as she shovels a spoonful into her mouth. For someone as thin and petite as she is, she sure can pack it away. It's funny how she looks like a dainty little ballerina but she can eat like a linebacker. I seriously have no idea where she puts it, but I love how she enjoys my cooking. "You are a culinary goddess."

After dinner, we veg out on the couch in our pajamas, basking in our carbo-loaded stupor.

"So, you haven't told me about call last night," she says, and tucks her legs underneath her. "How did it go?"

I moan and slump into the couch, clutching a throw pillow across my belly. "It was okay, I guess. Very quiet, only one delivery. But…" I proceed to give her the details of my awkward night, lamenting about the great syncope fiasco and telling her how Edward reacted when he found out I was from his hometown.

Alice giggles. "Well, it may not have been busier, but your night was definitely more interesting than mine. So, this means you're going to be taking call with Dr. Fuck Me!"

I roll my eyes at her misdirected enthusiasm. It figures that after everything I told her, all she focuses on is that I'll be working with Dr. Jackass. "I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. He's really temperamental. I'm beginning to think he may be bipolar or something."

"Oh come on, Bella. I don't know who you think you're fooling, but you are totally in heat for that man. Not that I blame you. I wonder if he's single…"

"Oh my God, Alice, settle! Since when did you turn into a Jewish mother?" I don't even want to entertain that line of thinking. The ovaries are bailing on me and taking her side, but I really don't care what they have to say.

Diversion tactics are the only thing that seems to work with Alice once she gets her mind set to something, so I pull out my ace in the hole.

"While we're on the subject of who's single, didn't Jasper say something about that this morning? What's going on with that?" I ask, watching her face carefully. I had a feeling by her reaction to his comment this morning that it wasn't news to her, and I knew this was a good way of giving her a turn in the hot seat. Sometimes I'm so brilliant it just hurts.

She scowls. "He broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago. Apparently she'd been feeling neglected since he was so busy with school and was cheating on him with her married ex-boyfriend."

My jaw drops. "Are you kidding me? That's terrible." My heart went out to Jasper. Alice and I got to know him pretty well last year, and used to study with him every now and then. He was a really good guy. He may be a little on the quiet side, but was definitely fun to be around once he opened up. It made me livid to hear that some callous bitch did that to him. "Is he okay?"

"You know, I was surprised that he didn't really seem upset by it. If anything, it sounded like he was relieved it was over between them." That didn't surprise me at all. I seriously wonder if the two of them were actually unaware of the mutual attraction or consciously avoiding it.

"So, that means he's available now, Alice. You want to talk to me about who's fooling anyone? I mean, seriously! Just jump him and get on with it already."

She sighs and hangs her head over the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I like him, Bella. I mean, I really  _like_ like him. I think he may be it for me. I can't explain, but I really think he's _the one._ "

I nod thoughtfully. "I think you're right. You know, I have this theory, that—"

Alice sits up abruptly with a goofy grin on her face. "Okay, let me brace myself. Here comes another profound Bella Swan theory," she teases, making a show of giving me her undivided attention.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

She snorts. "Oh, come on now. You have a theory about everything."

I'm not sure, but I think I may be a little offended. "I do not!"

"Um, yeah you do," she retorts. "Your 'theories' are really just a bunch of random, quirky 'world according to Bella-isms.' " She takes note of my sour expression and gives me an assuring smile. "But they're cute. It's part of your charm."

I pout and cross my arms over my chest. "Fine. I'll keep my theories to myself from now on."

"Oh no, please," she prods. "You have to tell me now."

I turn up my nose and turn my head away. "No, no. Never mind."

She kicks my leg. Hard. Ow! "Just  _tell_  me already!" she shrieks at me.

I glare at her. "Fine," I give in with an exaggerated sigh. "I just believe that there's a reason why some people are instantly attracted to each other. Why there are some people you meet and just 'click' with right away, while others you immediately dislike, even though you don't know them. I have a theory that it's because souls recognize each other from a previous existence."

Alice tilts her head and stares blankly at me, like I just told her that I had proof that the Tooth Fairy was real. "Yeah. I think you lost me."

I shake my head. "Look. Let me put it this way. I believe we're more than just mobile meat—"

She cuts me off. "Mobile meat?"

"Damn, Alice, will you just let me finish?" I reprimand her with a huff. "Like I was saying, we're more than just flesh and blood. Is that better? I believe we all have souls, this essence that makes us who we are. I think that souls continue on, even once our bodies are dead and gone…"

"How very New Age of you, Bella. Do you align your chakras every morning?"

I chuck a throw pillow at her head, making her squeal and giggle as she ducks away.

"I am so done with you," I chastise, and move to stand up to walk away. Alice quickly grabs my arm, and forcefully pulls me back down next to her. Where the hell does the little gnome get her strength?

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you," she appeases me. "I understand what you're saying. You think souls can recognize each other from previous lives or something, and are attracted to or repelled by one another based on past life experiences. Am I right?"

"Exactly! And I think that some souls are just meant to continue being together forever."

Alice pats me gently on my cheek. "You're such a sweet little fruitcake, you know that?" she teases.

I gently swat her hand away. "Yeah, yeah, maybe," I concede with a wry smile. I think I've always been aware that my brain works on a slightly different frequency than most other people. And I'm okay with that. "But I really do think you and Jasper are meant to be together. The two of you had this instant connection from day one. I see the way you fools look at each other. You can finish each other's sentences, for Christ's sake!"

She doesn't say anything, and for a moment looks unsure, deep in thought.

Something just isn't making sense here. Alice was never one to be shy around men. She's confident, extremely pretty, and very used to male attention. Why does it seem like she's holding back?

She takes in my confused expression and gives me a pointed look. "I don't chase boys, Bella. I have no intention of being his rebound girl. If he wants me, he's going to have to come after me when he's ready." Her lips twitch and curl into a self-assured grin, and suddenly the Alice I know is back. "And he will."


	6. Chapter 6

I'm not sure if it's just because it's finally Friday, but I have to say, I'm in an uncommonly good mood today. I'm starting to get comfortable with the routine in the OR, and Dr. Newton lets me scrub in with each case now, even though Tyler is also scrubbed in. It's not as if he lets me do all that much, but the view of the procedure is much better and he allows me suture. It makes up for the fact that he rarely shuts up. I've learned more about him than I ever wanted to know, and sometimes I even catch Tyler giving me a sympathetic grin. In a sense, the banal chatter is almost like background elevator music, and it's comforting that he doesn't bother to ask me any questions. So I smile pleasantly and nod while he goes on about everything, whether it's about how many articles he's had published or his incredible bowling average. He's a relatively nice guy...in an overbearing but harmless kind of way.

He asks me to join him again when we break for lunch, and I apologize and explain to him that I usually meet up with Alice. He doesn't mask his disappointment. I almost feel bad, but not enough to ask him to join us.

When I get my phone to text Alice, I see that there's already a message from her.

_Meet me in the residents' lounge._

Once I arrive, I see she's already sitting at the table and eating with a rather large, burly man with thick wavy brown hair and huge, muscular arms. Alice looks like an anorexic dwarf next to him, and it's almost comical. She sees me and smiles.

"Emmett, this is my roommate, Bella Swan," she tells him. He gives me a warm, broad smile that showcases an unexpected set of dimples, which make him look boyish and a whole lot less intimidating. I automatically smile back and take a seat next to Alice.

"Emmett McCarty, at your service." He extends a large hand, and I shake it timidly. Ah, so this is Dr. McCarty, the overgrown twelve-year-old I've been hearing about.

"So, Bella," he begins, as a mischievous grin spreads across his face, "I heard that Cullen managed to get you flat on your back already."

No, he didn't!

I feel my eyes go wide, and my face becomes hot. Though I quickly realize he's just messing with me, it infuriates me that he obviously knows about my little syncope incident the other night. I know Alice wouldn't sell me out like that, which could mean only one thing.

I feel my jaw tense. "Why that little…"

Emmett makes no attempt to hide his amusement and lets out a good-natured chuckle. "Down, girl. Edward didn't say anything to me about it, I swear."

I'm taken aback for a brief moment and then turn accusatory eyes to Alice. She shakes her head, her expression telling me she's just as surprised as I am. But if neither of them said anything to him, then how did he…

A quiet gasp escapes my lips. "Nurse Barbie told you? What, does the entire department know now?"

"No, I'm pretty sure just her boyfriend," he replies with an expectant look on his face. He waits patiently for me to process. When it does, my eyes drift down to the table, and my mouth forms a silent "Oh" while I wonder how to take my foot out of it.

"So, does that make me Dr. Ken?" he deadpans.

Okay, now that is funny. I can understand why Alice likes him. I give him my best poker face. "I hope not for your sake. I heard they broke up years ago."

"It's true," Alice agrees solemnly. "It was in the news and everything."

Emmett shakes his head. "All right, all right. I'll tell you what, Bella. You promise not to call Rose 'Barbie' anymore, and I won't give you shit about being a total wuss."

I am completely irritated that this is the first impression I'm being sandbagged with. I'm about to open my mouth to protest when I notice him look over my shoulder. I turn my head around to see what he's looking at, and I see it's none other than the illustrious Dr. Cullen.

I'm unnerved by my body's immediate visceral reaction to his presence. My heart starts racing, my hands tremble, and my stomach suddenly feels completely twisted inside. I note that he appears to be caught off guard by my presence as well, and I notice his brow furrow slightly and the muscles in his fuckhot jaw twitch. But he recovers quickly and looks right through me to Emmett.

"Dude, whatcha doing for lunch?" Emmett asks.

He hesitates for a millisecond, glancing over at Alice and me. My right foot starts bouncing on its own accord under the table, and my eyes start glancing around the room. Anywhere that he isn't. "I'm heading over to the deli," he addresses Emmett. "You want anything?"

"Gimme a sec, bro. I'll join you." Emmett stands up, and I can fully appreciate how big he really is. He's built like a football player. He puts on his lab coat and turns to Alice and me. "Don't take it personally ladies, but I deal with estrogen all day, and I could use a testosterone fix." He flashes that dimpled grin again. "Pleasure to meet you, Bella."

"Likewise," I answer. Right before they leave, Edward gives me a quick, tense nod of acknowledgement, almost as if it's an afterthought.

I look down at the floor and sigh loudly. So much for my good mood. I don't know what irritates me more…his oddball behavior toward me, or the fact that I actually care. I heat up my mac and cheese leftovers with a heavy feeling in my chest, and sit back down at the table with Alice. I feel her eyes on me while I push the food around the container with my fork, not feeling as hungry as I thought I was.

"Emmett seems pretty cool," I say without looking up.

Alice just mumbles "Mhmm" with her mouth full, and keeps watching me.

"I told you he was a moody, bipolar jackass," I grumble.

"Mhmm," she agrees half-heartedly.

I finally look up and glare at her. "Is that all you have to say?"

She looks me in the eye as she nonchalantly takes another bite of her lunch, and chews very slowly. "Mhmm."

"Gee. Thanks for stopping by." I put the lid back on my lunch, having no desire to eat.

Alice gives me a pointed look. "Would you rather I say, 'Poor baby. Is the big bad Dr. Jackass giving you a hard time? Let's sit and analyze why he's acting the way he does around you.' Would that make you feel better?"

_Yes._

My rational side steps up and gives my emo side a swift kick in the ass.

"No, of course not." Yeah, I know I'm pouting a little. Sue me. It's been a long week.

She regards me for a moment and then gives me a gentle smile. "I don't know about you, but I think we're about due for an appetizer night. How does tomorrow sound?"

My mood brightens. For appetizer nights, we go out and order several appetizers to share instead of actual meals, and usually margaritas are involved as well. It's sort of like "playing the field" with food instead of committing to one entrée. That's one of the things I love about Alice...she always seems to know what I really need. "Sounds like the best offer I've had all week. You're driving."

**XXX**

Although I would have much rather had Alice around tonight, I decide to take advantage of having the apartment to myself since she's on call. I take a long hot bath, blast my music, and dance around the house in my underwear. I vegetate and watch mindless reality TV until my eyes can't focus. Most of all, I try everything in my power  _not_ to think about Dr. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. But that's the funny thing about going out of your way to keep your mind off of something. The harder you try to ignore it, the more those uninvited thoughts worm their way into your brain. So I inevitably find myself concocting outlandish theories about why a certain beautiful green eyed dickwad was treating me like a pariah.

It seemed to hit the fan after I told him I was from his hometown, Forks. Could there be something about his past he was hiding? I liked that line of thinking because then it would have nothing to do with me.

Hmmm…the bad family upbringing and broken heart premises were plausible, but what if it had to with something more scandalous? Maybe the good doctor was hiding something?

My overactive imagination just took off with that idea. I entertained myself with thoughts that maybe he was a serial killer, and had buried a dozen bodies in the woods. There sure were plenty of trees in Forks.

Maybe Edward had a reputation for being a cross dresser back home. I'm sure he'd be upset with the possibility of someone "outing" him here. Even better…maybe he wasn't really Dr. Cullen's son at all. Maybe he was really his _daughter._ I mean, after all, he is rather pretty.

I consider the idea that he's in the witness protection program, and is afraid I'd blow his cover. Or that maybe the real Edward Cullen died years ago, and he is assuming his identity. Maybe he isn't even a real doctor...wouldn't that be a twist…

Or, perhaps it does have something to do with his family. Maybe the Cullens were really a coven of immortal vampires, and Edward had to leave town because someone discovered his secret. After all, I never have actually seen him in daylight. But I did see him eat real food…and why the hell would a vampire want to be an Ob/Gyn? Maybe I should scratch that theory.

Sigh…I just amuse the hell out of myself.

I finally settle myself down into a peaceful sleep, with visions of Dr. Jackass in lacy lingerie and stilettos dancing in my head.

**XXX**

**EPOV**

"So, are you going to let me in on what that was all about?" Emmett blurts out, once we've walked a safe distance from the lounge.

I'm really not in the mood to get into this right now. I stare straight ahead. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I'm kicking myself up and down for being caught with my guard down. When I went to the lounge to get Emmett for lunch, the last person I expected to see there was Bella Swan.

Bella  _fucking_  Swan.

She caught my attention right from the start. I could tell she was attractive, even behind a surgical cap and mask. She has these huge doe-like eyes that suck you right in. And a great body. Slender with all the right curves and a fucking sweet ass.

_Oh yeah, I'm a total ass-man._

But it takes more than a pretty face and a nice ass to impress me. Emmett tells me all the time that I'm too critical of women, and he may be right. I just know what I want, and I don't think it's a crime to be particular.

Bella Swan definitely intrigued me. She seemed a bit shy at first, but clearly intelligent. She was confident and comfortable answering any questions I threw her way. I have to admit, I didn't expect that. I've precepted many students, and it's a rarity for one to be as quick on their feet and as well prepared as she was.

But the clincher was her blush. Which she seems to do a lot. It crept all the way down her neck and disappeared into the neckline of her shirt. I couldn't stop wondering how far down it possibly went.

It was obvious how flustered she got when she had to get my pager for me. I could see Tyler's reaction as he watched her fumble around behind me, and she must have put on quite a show judging by the expression on his face. I couldn't help myself after that. That beautiful crimson flush was so fucking cute—I just had to poke around more to find out what buttons would bring it out again.

Which apparently, I'm a natural at.

I wanted to know more about Bella. So while we were on call, I took the opportunity to talk to her a bit, see if I could get her to talk about herself. I discovered that she's not only bright, but she's got a smart fucking mouth, too. It takes a lot to surprise me…but some of the things that she'd come out with were completely unexpected. I like that. And damn, watching that smart fucking mouth of hers eat chocolate just about did me in. I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at a chocolate bar quite the same way again.

Bella was pretty, smart, witty and apparently a good cook, too. So what was the catch?

There's  _always_  a catch.

So of course, of all the places in the world, she just had to be from my hometown, Forks.

Forks is a really small town.

Which meant that Bella Swan had to be Chief Swan's daughter.

That's a pretty big fucking catch in my book. As a matter of fact, it completely blew my ass out of the water.

"Well then, dude, you're going to have to work on your poker face. Because after that little uncomfortable display back there, you ain't fooling anyone." Emmett scoffed, and stopped short. "What's the deal?"

I feel my jaw clench, and I glare down at the floor. "Emmett, there's nothing to discuss. I'm going to the deli. If you feel like you're missing out on some female bonding time, go back."

He scrutinizes me for a moment, and then grins. "Pager girl is kind of cute," he says, watching my reaction. "She can fish around my back pocket anytime."

That just pisses me off. I know he's baiting me, and I'm not going to bite. "Go for it. I won't tell Rose a thing."

He rolls his eyes. "Come on, man, what gives? You dig her, I know it."

I knew I shouldn't have told him about the pager incident. But it was just too fucking funny not to share.

"Emmett, give it a rest." I start to walk away, hoping to send the message that this conversation was over.

No such luck. He just trots after me.

"No fucking way. This is just getting way too interesting. So what's this about?"

I sigh, and run my fingers through my hair. "It's a long story."  _That's the understatement of the century._  "But the long and the short of it is, I know her father, and let's just say he's not my biggest fan."

Emmett is unimpressed. "So what?"

I give him a pointed look. "She's from Forks. He father is the Chief of Police. I can safely say, without any shadow of a doubt, that he probably wouldn't want me in the same  _state_ as his daughter." Especially since the man has caught me parked—more than once—with my high school girlfriend in various stages of undress. And that's not anywhere near the worst of it. I'd really like to keep my past where it belongs. In the past.

"Dude, why do you even care? Like he'd even know if you went for his daughter." Emmett shakes his head. "What are the odds you'd ever have to meet him? It's not like you're going to marry her or anything. Don't be such a drama queen. Just. Go. For. It."

I kick his words around in my brain a bit. He may be a dick, but he has a point. Maybe I am overreacting. Besides, everything happened almost nine years ago, anyway. I just know that I can't continue acting this way. The look on Bella's face when she saw me in the lounge just about killed me…the poor girl looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. It made me feel like a total douchebag.

 _Maybe because you're acting like one_.

"Besides," Emmett adds with a smug grin, as we step outside the hospital entrance. "It's about time you got laid. For the good of all mankind."


	7. Chapter 7

I can't even put into words how excited I am to sleep in as late as my little heart desires.

I wake up at 8:30a.m., which feels amazingly indulgent, and have some cold leftover chicken with broccoli for breakfast. Yeah, I like dinner for breakfast and breakfast foods for dinner. I'm such a rebel.

I grab my cell phone to text Alice and see there is an unread message left at 3:47a.m.

_Hey beautiful. Miss u._

_J_

I feel a familiar pull in my chest when I read it. I haven't spoken to Jacob in several months, but he still had a tendency to drunk-text me when he was lonely.

I've known Jacob Black for as for back as I can remember. Our fathers had been best friends since grade school and remained close. They would go fishing together regularly, and every summer my parents would take me to La Push to visit the Blacks. Since Jacob and I were the same age, we just sort of grew up together by default.

He was my first everything.

First kiss.

First love.

First time.

First concussion.

Though not necessarily in that order.

See, growing up in a small town like Forks had significant limitations on your social life…especially if you're the Chief of Police's daughter. Charlie Swan was very well respected, but his quiet demeanor and no-nonsense, by-the-book reputation intimidated people. Especially teenage boys. Needless to say, I didn't date much in high school. Most boys in Forks preferred to stay under Charlie's radar. Literally.

But not Jacob Black. In Charlie's eyes, he could do no wrong. He viewed Jacob as a protective big brother to me, and he was one person Charlie felt secure I would stay out of trouble with.

Boy, was he ever wrong.

I really loved going to La Push, especially time spent on the beach. It was a separate world apart from the typical Forks crowd, where no one cared that I was a more interested in books than makeup, or worried about who my father was.

As kids, Jacob and I would tag along when our fathers went fishing. I have some great memories of times we'd play in the tide pools, build forts out of driftwood, or make muddy sandcastles. As we got older, we would go off on our own, and it was more about bonfires on the beach with his friends, listening to old Quileute folklore, and sometimes even sneaking a few beers. When I was around, he brought me along with him for everything. Even though I was the only non-Quileute in his group of friends, they always made me feel like I belonged.

Which is why the first time he brought me with him when they went cliff diving, I wanted to try it, too. I was fourteen-years-old and didn't want to look like a wimpy girl. Unfortunately, I  _was_  a wimpy and completely uncoordinated girl. As you can only imagine, my attempted bravado went over like a pregnant pole-vaulter. I'm not sure if I just landed awkwardly or if I panicked when I hit the shock of cold water, but I don't remember much about what actually happened. All I know is that Jacob saved my stupid ass from almost drowning, and that led to my first time meeting Dr. Carlisle Cullen, the rather attractive ER attending at Forks Community Hospital.

But, as my dumb luck would have it, not my last.

That incident did, however, put an end to our summers at La Push. My mom made sure of it. From there on, I wasn't allowed to go out with Jacob and his friends, and hanging out with Charlie and Billy Black held no interest for me. So I stopped going.

I didn't see Jacob again until I was seventeen. My best friend, Angela, had dragged me with her to First Beach one day to hang out with a group of kids from school. There were a couple of Quileute boys that were surfing there, and one of them just so happened to be Jacob.

Jacob Black had grown up.  _Oh, mama_ , did he grow up.

The skinny, moppy-haired boy I used to know had matured into an incredibly tall, drool-worthy, muscular hottie with beautiful russet skin and long, black hair. When he recognized me, he gave me a smile that could melt lead and he practically tackled me.

We were pretty much inseparable from there. Charlie had bought me faded red 1953 Chevy pickup once I got my driver's license. The car was an old, indestructible beast, and the only thing that Charlie trusted me driving. My parents conceded to let me take it out to La Push to see Jacob every weekend, and it was elating to be back. It was almost as if the gap in our relationship never happened, and we were able to pick up where we left off.

Only now, there were two major differences. First, I had to promise that my cliff-diving days were over. Second, there were now oodles of raging teenage hormones entering the picture, which made things between us infinitely more interesting.

So, yeah, that explains the first love, first kiss…our first time was on First Beach the night of my prom. I know. I'm a prom night statistic. How very cliché. And it was a whole lot more romantic in theory than reality. Cold, damp air…teenage boy who didn't know what he was doing…and sand. You do the math.

I had to tell my parents I twisted my ankle while dancing because I couldn't walk right for two days. Sand gets into the darnedest places. Lesson learned.

As for the concussion, well…Jacob had this old motorcycle that he'd fixed up. I absolutely loved riding with him; the feel of wind in my face and my hair, the smell of his leather jacket while I wrapped my body around his, and the pure exhilarating sense of freedom. One day I begged him to teach me how to drive it. He protested at first, considering my infamous lack of coordination and propensity for injuries. But Jacob never could say no to me.

The rest was history. I let out the clutch and squeezed the gas too quickly, and the bike took off suddenly, before I was able to get my bearings. I hit a rock just the right way, and literally flew over the handlebars and into a tree, knocking myself unconscious.

That little stunt bought me an admission to the hospital with a grade three concussion and a minor skull fracture. And a long, humiliating lecture from Dr. Cullen about the "dangers of high risk behaviors in teenagers". By that point, the staff at Forks Community Hospital was well acquainted with me. Through the years, Dr. Cullen had seen me for a variety of injuries, from broken bones to lacerations. I think the year I started to take an interest in cooking he had to stitch me up at least three times (apparently the fancy, rapid chopping they do on the Food Network takes sharp knives and a  _lot_ of practice. Who'd have thought?).

Luckily, there was no permanent damage from the head injury (though I'm sure some would disagree), but it took some convincing for my parents to believe that the accident happened while hiking. I claimed to trip on a root and hit my head on a tree stump. I had never lied to them before, and hated doing it. But there was no way I wanted to risk getting banned from La Push again.

We dated through the rest of high school, and Jacob really was the sweetest boyfriend. He was always such a fun, happy go lucky kind of guy, and he always put me in a great mood. I knew I loved him, and I thought I was  _in love_  with him, until he started talking about a future together.

I guess that was the beginning of the end.

I knew I wanted to go to the University of Washington for a Pre-Medicine program. Jacob planned to attend one of the local community colleges, and wanted to open his own auto body shop eventually. He couldn't understand why I wanted to go away to college, but if I planned to go pre-med, the best option was UW. Plus, being a bookworm with no real social life had paid off, and with my grades, I had been offered a scholarship.

So we did the long distance relationship thing for a while, and for the first year, it worked. But the following year didn't go as well. Little by little, the space between us became more than just geographical, and our relationship slowly unraveled.

Breaking up was essentially a mutual decision that we both saw coming, and we didn't want to wait until we hated each other. Our friendship was too important to us.

To this day, I still get a call or a text from him, usually at odd times with the time zone difference. I think I'll always consider him one of my closest friends, but I just don't believe you can ever go back. Though, sometimes I'm not quite sure if Jacob agrees.

I read the text again, and instead of calling him back, I decide to just text him back and head out to the grocery store before Alice gets home.

**XXX**

Monday morning I have new resolve for the week, and I feel refreshed after the weekend. After a much-needed night out with Alice on Saturday, it just rained all day Sunday, so I stayed in and cooked my little heart out. I made a huge fresh batch of sauce—this time with meatballs—and used it to make my famous "Bellasagna" and Alice's favorite, eggplant parmesan. And don't hate the eggplant. I used to make chicken parmesan until Alice begged me once to make eggplant instead. I've been a convert ever since. I'm totally set for meals for at least a week, and I feel completely rejuvenated.

After rounds I head to the OR and look on the board to see what cases Dr. Newton has today. Only I don't see his name on the board, I see Dr. Cullen's.

What the fuck?

This pulls the rug out from underneath me, and suddenly I'm all discombobulated. Why is  _he_  on the schedule today? Is Newton sick again?

I don the sexy cap and mask and enter room 4, where the patient is just being brought in for a laparoscopic ovarian cyst removal. I help the nurse, Carmen, prep. She's petite, with an olive complexion and almost black hair that she keeps tied back in a low ponytail. She's very nice, and I'm pleased to see that she's on today.

"So, what happened to Dr. Newton?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

"The residents have five week rotations, and he'll be the night float this month. Dr. Cullen will be covering gyn surgery now," she explains.

Just fucking great. It's not enough that I'll be on call with him twice this week, now I'll be in the OR with him all week, too. I get an uneasy, sick feeling in my stomach. Could I be developing an ulcer? Or irritable bowel syndrome? Good God, school has made me such a hypochondriac.

I take a deep breath. I'm making a big deal over nothing. I am a professional. I am here to learn. I got through a hundred-hour per week Surgery rotation in one piece, so there's no reason why I can't handle a bitchy ob/gyn resident. Who, for all I know, wears a thong and garters underneath his scrubs.

Now  _that's_  a visual.

My mood is feeling a whole lot lighter after my little internal pep talk. A few minutes later, once the patient is ready, the door swings open, and in walks a freshly-scrubbed Dr. Jackass. His beautiful hair and face are obscured by his mask and surgical cap, but his expressive eyes are bright, maybe even well rested. I can't help but admire how gracefully he moves, and I hate the little flutter in my traitorous heart and gut. Another guy walks in immediately after him, scrubbed as well. He's tall and lanky, and all I can see are soft blue eyes and light brown eyebrows. I'm guessing this must be the resident who's taking Tyler's place.

"Good morning, Carmen," Edward greets pleasantly, as he puts on his gloves and gown. He looks up once he's finished, and his eyes turn my way. "Good morning," he directs at me, with a nod of acknowledgement. His eyes are actually friendly, and his voice is so soft and smooth, it sends a delicious little shiver up the back of my neck.

God  _damn,_  I'm such a stupid fucking girl.

I'm completely thrown off. Edward is not only unexpectedly pleasant today, but he's in an obviously good mood, which seems to be a surprise only to me. He jokes around with Carmen and the anesthesiologist. He's actually witty. And charming. And I feel like I'm in some kind of alternate universe.

Is it possible that Edward was just PMSing last week? I have a solid theory that men have their time of the month, too.

The morning seems to fly by. Edward makes a point to discuss interesting aspects of each case, points out anatomy, and even quizzes me here and there. Unlike Newton, who seemed to be more focused on merely sounding impressive, Edward actually makes an effort to teach. He's obviously very bright, and turns out to be an excellent preceptor.

Huh.

But like everything, all good things must come to an end. I'm pulled from my inner musings by a sound that actually makes my heart seize up for a moment.

His pager.

 _Fuck me sideways_. He looks up at me, and I'm filled with dread for those inevitable words.

"Swan, could you get that?"

I bit my lip and look down at the floor. I know I'm definitely blushing, and I'm hoping—no, praying—that my mask is concealing the evidence.

I watch the floor as I move behind him. Ignoring the quiver in my hands, I decide to grab my ovaries and just go for it. I am thoroughly pleased with myself when I retrieve the offending pager without incident this time around, and without making eye contact with anyone in the room, I proceed to answer the page.

I dial the callback number, and a deep male voice answers, "Hello?"

"Hello, you paged Dr. Cullen?" I answer in my big-girl, professional voice.

"Yes I did, and you don't sound like Dr. Cullen." The voice answers back in a teasing tone. "Edward, you went through with that sex change operation after all?"

I am completely taken off guard, and I actually snort. I clear my throat and glance over at Edward, who is now eyeing me curiously.

"Um, no. This is Bella Swan, answering for him. He's scrubbed in a case. Can I relay a message?"

"Bella, baby! You managing to stay upright today?"

I smile and shake my head. "Well, hello there, Dr. McCarty. Are you bored? Is there any purpose to this call other than harassment?"

He chuckles, and his infectious laugh makes me smile. "Nah, just tell Cullen to call me when he's done. Catch you later, Bella."

I say goodbye and hang up, and I return to my spot at the head of the patient. Edward is focused on the hysterectomy he's in the middle of, but even with his mask on, I could swear I see a peculiar, almost amused expression on his face.

**XXX**

I'm really enjoying being in the OR today. The new resident, Peter, seems very nice and makes polite conversation with me here and there between cases. As the day goes on, I find myself actually beginning to feel more relaxed around Edward. He's a truly gifted surgeon, and he actually seems to enjoy teaching, which makes each procedure more interesting. He's a pleasure to watch, and I swear it has nothing to do with his pretty eyes or magic hands.

Wait, that sounds really bad, doesn't it…I didn't mean it that way, really. Good God, now I'm blushing again. Fuck! I keep my head down, hoping no one notices.

But as I'm trying to shut down the evil one-track minded ovaries and refocus myself, his stupid pager starts going off. Again.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_! Are you kidding me? The last thing I need right now is to be anywhere near Edward's ass!

I swear, on all that is holy, I am going to take the battery out of that thing. I mean, why the hell does he get so many pages, anyway? Newton didn't get paged even once last week.

He doesn't even look up at me this time, but I know the words before he says them.

"Swan, can you check that for me?"

Am I allowed to say no?

I glare down at the floor as I "assume the position," biting my lip because all I want to do is spew unladylike profanities under my breath. I pull his gown back, and as I'm about to pull his pocket as far away from his body as possible, he startles me by turning his head back towards me.

"Just check it, and tell me the callback number."

Okay, that's different…I retrieve the pager as quickly as possible, and read off the number. "Do you want me to answer it for you?"

He turns his head back around. "No, that's ok. That can wait until I finish the case."

I furrow my brow as I step away from him, for some reason dying of curiosity to know who that last page was from.

**XXX**

The day comes to a close, and I'm beginning to wonder if he ever plans to let me scrub in, or if I'm doomed to be pager-bitch all week. So once I'm finished helping wrap up the last case, I collect myself and decide to be proactive. Assertive. I lift my chin, take a deep breath, and approach him before he leaves.

"Dr. Cullen," I say, my tone professional, neutral. "Will I be able to start scrubbing in on cases soon?"

He regards me for a moment. Then, out of nowhere, a smug, devilish grin spreads across his face, reminiscent of  _The_ _Grinch that Stole Christmas_. He pauses for a moment—for pure dramatic effect, I'm sure—before he replies.

"Miss Swan," he answers, trying to sound equally professional, "I do not let just  _anyone_  scrub in on my cases. You have to  _earn_  scrub status. And at this point," his hypnotic green eyes dance with mirth as he leans closer, making my heart rate speed up and my skin feel hot and flushed, "You. Don't. Deserve."

_No. He. Didn't._

My mouth drops open just a little bit, and the fucker is so obviously amused with himself that I want to backhand him with a fucking surgical glove. Or even better, something harder. My mind is scrambling for some kind of witty comeback, but all that pops out of my mouth is, "Yeah, well…fine."

Oh, wow. Good one, Bella. You really showed him.

I know my frustration is plastered all over my face, because his expression softens, and he gives me a gentle smile. That smile makes my heart flip out again, so I immediately cast my eyes down to the floor, inspecting it carefully as if the winning lottery numbers will magically appear on it.

"Listen, all kidding aside, I need to see that you know what you're doing before I let you touch one of my patients. I already promised to work with you on your suturing technique the next time we're on call, which is tomorrow. You prove to me that you can safely stitch well without stabbing yourself, and I'll let you scrub in as often as you like."

I try to mask my disappointment, because I can respect his point. But I'm not ready to give in just yet. "How about this, then. If that's how you feel, I can wait to suture until you're comfortable with my competency. But I'd still like the opportunity to scrub in. It gives me a better view of the procedure, and I feel like I get more out of it that way. I just want to get as much hands-on experience as possible this rotation."

He looks at me with an expression on his face that I can't quite place, and I wish I knew what was going through his head. He finally gives me a confirmatory nod. "I think I can live with that," he concedes. "Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

I'm doing a little happy victory dance in my head, feeling like I've won a minor battle. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.

"Oh, and Swan," he begins, his voice as smooth and delicious as honey. "Don't think I forgot about your end of the bargain. And bring a large portion. I've got a very healthy appetite."

 _My, oh my._  I sincerely hope so.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephenie Meyer owns it all.  
> mcc101180 and Love of Escapism are the best betas ever.

There's an underlying nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach as I drive to the hospital this morning. I am actually looking forward to the OR today, yet I can't help but wonder what kind of mood the good doctor will be in today. Will he play nice again, or will Dr. Jackass be back in full effect? If he's in bitch mode, I could just slip him some chocolate. After all, chocolate can fix just about anything as far as I'm concerned. It's my version of duct tape.

I get a longer list for rounds than usual today. The dark circles under Alice's eyes give away how exhausted she is this morning. Apparently she had a busy night on call and didn't get more than a few hours of broken up sleep. Dr. Baker makes her present all of the cases she saw, and after she does her best to struggle through it, he makes a snide comment about how she "needs to be better prepared next time." She's such a hard worker, and I see that she's hurt by his harsh words. It pisses me off, and I can't help but wonder if he's always this much of an asshole or if he just never gets laid.

As I'm leaving, I look back at Alice to see if she's okay, and I catch Jasper whispering something in her ear. It causes her to flush and grin, and I'm very happy to see that Alice is definitely more than okay.

By the time I make it through my rounds and get to the OR, the first case of the morning is already starting. Edward looks up at me as I enter, and his rich green eyes bore into me for a moment with an unreadable expression. I stiffen and feel that nervous clench in my gut return, and I wonder if he's annoyed that I'm late…I'm desperately hoping that isn't the case, especially since I'm stuck with him for the next 24 hours.

"Swan, go ahead and scrub," he tells me, taking me by surprise. I feel a small surge of adrenaline as I comply and set up my surgical gown and gloves.

I was correct in thinking that scrubbing in on Edward's cases would be more interesting. The view was infinitely better—there was no question about it. However, much to my chagrin, the view that seemed to be the most fascinating was directly across from me, and it had nothing to do with female anatomy.

Though  _my_  female anatomy would most certainly beg to differ.

I had my eyes glued to each procedure, almost by force, in a conscious effort not to gawk at him like some prepubescent girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

It's unnatural. Completely illogical. And utterly embarrassing. But the truth of the matter is that watching this man perform surgery was like porn for me. Disturbing, don't you think? Like I'm developing some weird surgery fetish or something? But something tells me it has more to do with the surgeon than the surgery itself.

I decide to test that theory…I try to imagine the most unappealing thing I can think of, and doing laundry is the first thing that pops into my head. I try that out. Edward doing laundry…Edward doing laundry shirtless… _holy fuck, that would be hot_.

This isn't working. And now I'm wondering if he's a boxers or briefs man. I sincerely hope he's not a tightie-whities man. That would be a grand disappointment.

Ha. Who am I kidding? This man would be appealing in Batman underoos.

I've  _got_  to stop with the visuals.

There was such an intensity and confidence he just emanated while he worked. Something about the way his forehead creased in concentration, and the grace his talented hands possessed…it was sexy as hell. The ovaries wondered if he had that same intensity and expertise with  _everything_ he did...

Even watching him scrub was a religious experience. The way the prominent muscles in his lean, defined arms would flex and protrude as he vigorously worked the scrub brush over his lovely long fingers, hands, and forearms…in quick, rhythmic, calculated motions…

It astounds and concerns me how pathetic I've become. It's now perfectly clear to me—I definitely have OCD. Obsessive Cullen Disorder.

**XXX**

When I get to the lounge, after helping Carmen transfer the last patient of the day to the holding room, Edward is already there, his glorious thick hair in his signature delicious disarray, with a brown shopping bag atop the large table. I eye it curiously, craning my neck a bit to try to see inside.

He shakes his head slowly, his jaw firmly set, and takes the bag off the table and places it on the floor next to him. "Payment first, Swan."

"What is this, a drug deal?" I roll my eyes and snort, turning to retrieve the "goods" from the fridge. I feel his eyes on me as I warm up the containers in the microwave, and I feel like there's a dog watching me while it waits to be fed.

Which, come to think of it, is a relatively close assessment.

Edward's luscious green eyes widen a bit as I set the piping hot containers down on the table. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that the delectable aroma wafting off of the food is absolutely heavenly. Or possibly that his portion is almost three times the size of mine.

"You said you had a big appetite," I challenge with a little smirk.

His lips curl up on one side and form that lopsided grin that makes me turn into goo. I'll bet he's used that smile to get away with murder his entire life. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I did."

I suddenly feel irrationally nervous and chew on my lip as I watch him take a generous bite of the lasagna. Now mind you, I don't make just any ordinary run-of-the-mill lasagna. There's a reason I call it "Bellasagna." It's seriously kickass. It has generous amounts of four different cheeses and just the right amount of my homemade sauce. I bake it until it's nice and gooey on the inside but has just the right amount of nicely browned cheese on top and crispy golden edges. It's been known to end wars and make grown men cry. It was always Charlie's favorite, and I could get him to agree to just about anything whenever I made it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope that it would have a similar effect on Dr. Mercurial.

His eyebrows rise as he tastes it, and he looks up at me, a look of disbelief on his face. "You honestly made this?" he asks me, before he places another large forkful into his mouth.

A few choice snarky comments pop into my head, but I restrain myself and push them aside. Instead, I just nod and turn my attention to my dinner, feeling a bit of relief and a surge of pleasure that he clearly seems to be enjoying it.

I resist the urge to watch him eat, because that would just be downright creepy. I focus instead on my own dinner and try to enjoy the silence.

"I'm impressed," he finally says, and I'm a bit surprised to glance up and see that he's completely finished that huge portion. I bite back a smile. "So, how did a nice girl from Forks learn to cook Italian food like this?"

He thinks I'm a nice girl?

I'm taking a moment to mull over the fact that I'm not quite sure if I actually want him to think of me that way, when I realize that he is, yet again, watching me with an expectant look on his face.

Shit…this is becoming a very bad habit, isn't it?

I make a point of continuing to chew a little bit longer so he thinks I'm just being polite and finishing my food before I talk. I wipe my mouth with a napkin, just for good measure, and to be sure that I'm not talking with cheese or sauce stuck to my face.

"When I was doing my undergrad at University of Washington, my roommate, Gianna, lived relatively close to campus and used to take me home with her all the time. Her grandmother was from Italy, and her family used to do these huge, amazing Sunday dinners with just tons of incredible authentic Italian food," I explain.

Gianna had a rather large extended family, and they would get together at least once a month for these wonderful traditional family dinners. They were noisy, chaotic, and filled with fighting, laughter, and course after course of some of the best food I've ever eaten. "It took a lot of begging, but I was eventually able to convince her grandmother to teach me how to make her sauce."

He chuckles softly, and it's a beautiful, almost melodic sound. "Somehow, I imagine you can be quite persuasive if you want to be."

I'm feeling myself get a bit warmer, and my brain seems to be jammed at the moment and can't come up with any kind of a witty reply. And believe me, it takes a lot to render me speechless. It's like he somehow disengages certain parts of my brain.

I decide it's a perfect time to clear the table. As I stand up, Edward stands with me and takes the containers from my hands, telling me he'll take care of them. He balks at the startled look on my face.

"What? Is it that difficult to believe that my mother really did raise me right?"

I bite my lip, because at this point in the game, I really don't know what to make of him anymore. So I smile and shake my head. "No. And thank you."

His face brightens as his lips lift into that wonderful asymmetrical grin. "No, thank you. That had to be the best meal I've had in ages. And, quite possibly, the best lasagna I've ever had." Gah…his expression is so sincere—it actually melts me…just a little…and suddenly  _I'm_ feeling all gooey in the middle and crispy around the edges.

Thank heaven my rational side kicks in before the prepubescent fangirl takes over.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I reply softly, trying to keep my face as neutral as possible, and lift my head to look down at the brown shopping bag. "Now, it's your turn."

**XXX**

True to his word, Edward brought everything I'd need to practice suturing. He sets out a plethora of different sutures, several curved needles, a needle holder, forceps, and a well used suturing board, which looks like flesh-colored foam set in a square frame with several "cuts." He moves to my side of the table and sits down next to me, and he proceeds to review several different stitching methods, asking which particular ones I want to work on.

Even though I had quite a few opportunities to suture on my Emergency Medicine and Surgery rotations, it was nowhere near enough practice to make me comfortable with my level of skill. I want proficiency, and I need to get as much experience under my belt as possible before I'm off on my own in the real world.

He starts to demonstrate and explain a running subcuticular stitch, and I'm completely mesmerized yet again with the meticulousness and agility of his hands. He's making a complicated technique look deceptively easy, because it's obviously completely natural and effortless to him. I lean back a bit and let my eyes roam up to his face while he's immersed in his task, stealing a moment to appreciate his handsome profile, the perfect slope of his nose, and the light five o'clock shadow that now highlights his angular jaw line.

"How do you do that?" I hear myself blurt out. His hands stop and he looks at me, his brow creasing with curiosity. I immediately feel flustered and regret opening my mouth. "I'm sorry. It's just that I've worked with plenty of surgeons, and no one sutures the way you can. I'd expect it from a plastic surgeon, but not an ob/gyn."

He smiles and looks down, and if I'm not mistaken, his cheeks flush a bit.

Wow. That's a switch. Is it bad that I enjoying making him blush for a change?

"Practice, Swan. A whole lot of practice," he replies, and my eyes are drawn to his Adam's apple as he swallows. "I don't believe in doing anything half-assed. I'm going to specialize in gynecologic oncology, which involves a lot of surgery. And I'm operating on women. The last thing I'd want to do is leave a potentially ugly scar on a woman's body, when it just takes a little extra effort to close up a wound properly and get a better cosmetic result."

_Oh good God, I think I just swooned a little._

He definitely just killed the theory that he hates women, and I suddenly feel bad for mentally dressing this poor guy up in children's underwear and lingerie. This is the most I've heard him say about himself, and my brain suddenly floods with more questions I want to ask. But just as I'm about to open my mouth, a painfully familiar sound antagonizes my ears.

It's official. That fucking pager is possessed. And out to get me.

I sigh and lean back, watching his face as he checks the number. He glances up at me with a sly smirk as he returns the evil little object to his back pocket. "Okay, Swan, we got a live one. Think you can manage to stay conscious this time?"

I narrow my eyes at him and stand up, brushing nonexistent crumbs off my scrubs. I cock an eyebrow at him. "Bring it."

**XXX**

There were actually two deliveries going on back-to-back, which was exciting, if not a bit more hectic. This time, Edward allows me to be a little more involved, teaching me how to check the patient's progress, and having me write post-delivery notes. Both deliveries seemed to be a lot less…messy…than my first was, unless I'm just desensitized. Luckily, neither required episiotomies.

By the time we finish in labor and delivery, it's almost 10:00p.m. I'm wired on adrenaline and oddly not the least bit tired, so I ask Edward if he'd mind letting me practice with the suture equipment he brought.

"Have at it. That's what it's here for," he answers and sits next to me as I set everything up. I try to duplicate his subcuticular stitch, but I can feel his eyes on me. My nervousness goes straight to my hands, which are now trembling like leaves in the wind, making it infinitely more difficult to control the needle.

"You don't have to watch me, you know," I snap, feeling beyond embarrassed and realizing that I was only proving him right that I wouldn't be able to stitch without gouging myself. "Don't you have more important things to do?"

He chuckles and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. "Nope," he answers, enunciating his "p" the way I'd done to him my first night on call. He really does enjoy throwing things back in my face. I feel myself scowl, and I'm beyond irritated with myself that I let him affect me this way.

"Look, you're usually going to have other people around when you suture, or do any other procedure, for that matter. So if you can't control your tremor with just me around, how do you expect to be able to suture well with everyone in the OR watching?"

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._  The stupid, pretty Jackass is right.

I sigh with resignation and look down at my hands. It bothers me that he picked up on my tremor, though I guess he'd have to be blind not to. He tilts his head toward me, drawing my eyes to his. His expression is surprisingly compassionate. "You're tired, which only makes a tremor worse. Maybe you should go get some sleep while you can. There's no telling what kind of night it's going to be."

I consider it for a moment but push the temptation to give up aside. I look down at the suturing board. "No, I'm fine," I insist. "You don't have to babysit me. I'm just going to work at it a bit longer. Is that okay?"

I look back up at him after a moment because he hasn't given me an answer, and I see a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Suit yourself," he finally answers, as he pushes himself away from the table and stands up. "I'm going for coffee. Want anything?"

I decline, and he grabs his lab coat off the chair and turns to leave. Hmm…maybe he is granting me some space after all? On a whim, I peek into my pocket to see what chocolate I have left.

"Dr. Cullen," I call softly, before he reaches the door.

He stops and turns to me. "You can call me Edward, you know," he corrects me, which causes that familiar but ridiculous flutter in my belly. I roll my eyes at myself.

"Edward," I say with emphasis, just for the chance to give his name a test drive. "Want a piece of chocolate?" I ask, offering two pieces of the miniature candies, a Krackel bar and a Mr. Goodbar in my hand.

He glances at them, and then looks me square in the eye. "Is that all you've got?"

"Yep," I reply simply, but a small smile sneaks across my lips.

I'm rewarded with my favorite asymmetrical grin. "Then I'll take them both."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their amazing beta skills, and to the lovely Prettyflour for pre-reading.

"Let me see what you've done so far."

I'm so wrapped up in my suture tying that I don't even hear him return, and his voice actually makes me jump and gasp.

I take a deep breath, trying to settle down my now racing heart. "You can't just sneak up on people like that!" I chastise, but comply and let him see. He sits down next to me with his coffee, a smug smirk on his face, and he leans toward me as he inspects my work.

"Not bad," he remarks with a slow tilt of his head. "Your stitches are nice and even. You just have to be careful with the tension in your knots. You want to approximate your wound edges, not strangulate them."

I bite my lip and look back down at the suturing board. All I can think of right this moment, with him sitting close enough that if I just shifted my knee just an inch it would brush against his, is how badly I want to shift that inch and invade his personal space…

_Oh, the things I could do to that personal space._

I steal a glimpse at him sideways through my lashes, and I'm startled to find that he's looking right back at me. I swallow thickly. My eyes dart quickly back down to my work, because suddenly I feel ridiculously warm, and my throat feels like sawdust. I'm now acutely aware of how quiet it is in the room, and my heart is now beating so loudly that I actually worry if he could possibly hear it.

"I'm going to get some water," I hear myself say, and I ever-so-awkwardly bounce up out of my seat and accost the water cooler on the other side of the room. I take a few sips, letting the cold liquid soothe the dryness in my throat while I try to clear my head.

The silence in the room is starting to unnerve me. Normally I don't mind it, but I feel a strange tension in the air. So my mouth decides to do something about it.

"So, um, you mentioned that you're specializing in gynecologic oncology?" I ask, figuring it's safe territory. I have no desire to mention anything about Forks again, given his bizarre reaction last time.

He leans back in his chair a bit and takes a swig of his coffee. "I start my fellowship at NYU in July."

"Wow," I muse out loud. "That's a hell of a lot of training." The length of medical school and residency was one of the reasons, among others, I chose to become a physician assistant instead of a doctor. That means he's tacking on an additional three years of training. I can't even fathom that. "Is that what you always planned to do? Or did you just decide that looking at vaginas all day and delivering babies in the middle of the night wasn't all it was cracked up to be?"

Damn…that came out sounding a lot more crass than I'd intended. Filter malfunction much? But judging by the amused expression on his face, he doesn't seem to be offended. I draw in a quick sigh of relief.

"Actually, it is what I originally intended," he answers with a half smile. "During medical school, I was interested in both Surgery and Obstetrics. I loved the fact that ob/gyn would give me the opportunity to do both, but…" He pauses for a moment, and I get the distinct impression that he's filtering. He studies me for a moment, and he looks as if he's trying to make a decision. He finally sighs and shifts in his seat. "During my second year of med school, my grandmother was diagnosed with a recurrence of breast cancer. My father convinced my mother that she should get BRCA tested. Are you familiar with BRCA testing?"

I nod my head. "I have a general idea. It was mentioned in class, but they didn't go into a lot of detail. Isn't it a blood test that can detect a gene mutation linked with an increased risk for breast cancer?" I move to the couch and settle in, wanting to be closer while we talk, but not close enough to let his damn pheromone voodoo affect me.

"That's exactly right. Well, as it turned out, my mother tested positive for the BRCA gene. Which meant she had a dangerously high chance of developing breast or ovarian cancer in the course of her lifetime."

"Oh my God, that's horrible," I gasp in disbelief. How on earth is someone supposed to process that kind of information? "So what happened?"

He leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, clasping his hands. "My father extensively researched all the options available, and to make a long story short, my mother opted to get her ovaries removed since that would dramatically decrease her risk of both cancers.

"It turned out to be the best decision she could have made. When they removed her ovaries, they actually found out she already had stage one ovarian cancer."

My mouth falls agape, and my heart clenches. I can see all over his face how difficult this must have been for his family to go through.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Of course, I didn't find out about any of this until she completed her treatment. My parents didn't want to worry me while I was in school." He shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. Guilt and regret are written all over his face, and something inside me wants to say something, to comfort him, but it doesn't seem appropriate. Instead, I wait patiently for him to finish his story.

"That sparked my interest in gynecologic oncology. I guess you could say the rest is history," he finishes with a shrug.

"What about you? I know you said you're keeping your options open, but I'm sure by now you must have some idea what specialties interest you," he prods.

I look down at my hands and repress the urge to fidget. I don't want to lie to him, but I don't want to admit that I am already committed to Pediatrics. He only asked what interests me, so I could honestly answer that. "I definitely enjoy Surgery. It's fascinating."  _Especially when he's performing it._  "I also like Emergency Medicine, Critical Care, Orthopedics, Pediatrics…I would say I like just about everything, as long as it doesn't involve prostates." I hear the words as they spew from my mouth, and I internally cringe. That was completely unnecessary information. Fucking filter failure strikes again.

He actually laughs. God, what a wonderful sound. It makes me smile. "Yeah, can't say I blame you. Obviously, my choice of specialty exempts me from that as well. But you seriously haven't narrowed down any preferences?"

I'm wondering how I want to answer, when much to my surprise, the sound that usually fills me with irritation and dread actually fills me with relief as his pager goes off.

Ha! One point for Bella on the pager scorecard.

He keeps his eyes on me as he shifts to retrieve it from his pocket. I glance at my watch and see that it's already almost midnight.

"Well, it doesn't look like you're going to get a lot of sleep tonight, Swan." He rises from his chair and grabs his lab coat. I do the same. "Time to head back over to L&D."

**XXX**

When we arrive at the Labor and Delivery floor, we learn that the patient, Emily Young, scheduled for a routine Cesarean section next week due to a breech presentation, but she went into labor early. This will be my first C-section, and I'm extremely excited to see what it's like.

I watch the anesthesiologist give the patient a spinal block, which he explains will make her numb from the chest down. Edward tells me to scrub with him once the patient is all set up.

"So, Mrs. Young, what happened? I thought we had a date set up next week," Edward addresses her through the sterile drape that creates a barrier between us. I'm wondering if she's one of his patients from the clinic.

"Oh, you know me, Dr. Cullen. I have to do everything the hard way." She laughs and goes on to explain that she and her husband had just come back from dinner and a play in the city, when her water broke on the subway. Ugh. Now that's a visual I didn't need.

This is completely surreal to me. Edward is slicing this woman's uterus open, just above her pubic bone, and she's chatting with him about the play like they're hanging out at a coffee shop or something.

Edward goes through the motions of the procedure as if he were doing something mundane and routine like tying his shoes, conversing lightly with the couple behind the sterile curtain. When he reaches the baby, he delves into her abdomen and pulls out the cramped-up miniature human, lifting it from her body. I watch with unadulterated wonder as this tiny being unfurls its body and takes its very first breath of air, letting out a loud scream as his lungs come to life. I feel that familiar lump of emotion in my throat as the nurse takes the newborn baby boy, wraps him up, and vigorously cleans him off.

"The baby is perfect," Edward praises with that proud smile on his face. I hear gasps and murmurs behind the drape, and my heart swells a bit. "Mr. Young, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"

"Umm, no thanks. I think I'll pass," he answers, and Mrs. Young laughs.

"Are you kidding? He passed out the first time he watched them draw my blood in the clinic."

Edward's eyes meet mine. "How about you, Bella?" He hands me a large surgical scissor, and I'm ridiculously thrilled to be given this minor contribution. I smile at him with gratitude.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Edward offers once I've severed the cord. My eyes widen as the nurse places this brand spanking new life into my arms, and he nods his head in the direction of the waiting new parents on the other side of the drape. Excitement and endorphins course through my veins as I bring the baby to the anxiously awaiting parents. They're both smiling, and I place the child in his mother's waiting arms, my heart bursting with pride and exhilaration that I'm granted this amazing gift of being the first to introduce the new parents to their son.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Young," I gush enthusiastically. "It's a boy!"

They both beam and nod. "Yeah, we know."

_Oh._

Well, that was…anticlimactic.

The lump of emotion slides down my throat and virtually disappears, and for some strange reason, my endorphin high just falls flat without so much as a thud. I look over at Edward, and he quickly looks back down at the incision he's carefully closing up, that now familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

**XXX**

I finish helping clean up and transfer the patient to recovery while Edward writes his post-delivery notes, and it's almost 2:00 a.m. by the time we finally make it back to the residents' lounge. The long day has caught up with me, and I'm completely drained and exhausted. But before I allow myself to succumb to sleep, I quickly jot down some notes on the patients I saw tonight, so I'll be able to present them easily during morning rounds with Dr. Pencildick Baker. After seeing how he treated Alice after her busy night on call, I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"Go to bed, Swan," Edward tells me firmly, and I look up to find him glaring at me with a stern frown.

"I will. I'm just finishing some notes," I mutter.

He sits across from me at the table. "Go get some sleep," he repeats, his tone gentler. I let my eyes meet his, and I wonder if my face looks as fatigued as his does. "You did really well tonight."

My cheeks get warm, and I feel my lips twitch into a small smile. "Thanks." I draw in a breath and try to just…enjoy the moment.

He rises from the table, begins to collect all the suturing equipment and places it back in the paper bag. I stand and help him. "Could you possibly bring this stuff back next time?" I ask, hopeful.

He shrugs. "Why don't you take it with you and just bring it back next call night."

My eyes light up at his generosity. "Really? The hospital would allow that?"

He turns to go to his call room. "Doesn't matter. It's all mine." He glances back at me over his shoulder. "Goodnight, Swan."

When I finally let my pooped-out body sink into the hard bed in my call room, thin, scratchy sheets and flat, lumpy pillows never seemed so welcoming.

Morning arrives all too soon, and it takes an inordinate amount of effort to haul my ass out of bed. The shower feels incredible as I let the scalding hot water revive my muscles and wash away my fatigue. But as I spread the lather around my body, images of lush green eyes, an asymmetrical smile, and long, elegant fingers replacing my own raid my thoughts, eliciting an unexpected and rather uncomfortable ache down below…

 _Fuck_ …like this is what I really need before my faceoff with Dr. Baker.

I turn the shower to cold and rinse the unbidden ridiculousness down the drain.

**XXX**

I am feeling inordinately antsy as I wait with Alice and Jasper for Dr. Baker's arrival. Alice asks about my night on call, but all I can manage are brief, clipped responses. I can't seem to focus on anything but presenting my cases this morning and inwardly castigate myself for being so nervous. I reviewed my notes. I couldn't be more prepared. But I'm tired, hungry, and feeling something else that I don't care to be distracted with at this moment.

Dr. Baker arrives with a smile at exactly 5:59a.m. "Good morning, boys and girls," he greets us buoyantly. I'm immediately irked by his obvious good mood. "Miss Swan, I understand you had a busier night this time. I'm looking forward to hearing about your cases."

Translation _: I know you were busy and had a late night. I'm anxious to see if you can present this morning on limited sleep without falling flat on your face._

I cast my gaze quickly between Alice and Jasper, trying to soothe my haywire nerves, and shove my hands in my pockets so the insane trembling won't be visible. I look Dr. Baker square in the eye, dying to get this moment over with, and open my mouth to begin.

Yet nothing comes out.

My mind goes completely…absolutely… _blank._

I start searching frantically for the information that was just  _right there_  moments ago. I'm rooting around my cerebral cortex, pushing past other useless information and visuals, hoping—no, praying—something will finally kick in.

I feel my eyes widen as I watch the expression on Dr. Baker's face morph from an expectant smile to more of a sinister sneer. I know he smells blood, and now I can hear my own buzzing in my ears. He waits a beat and then decides it's time to go in for the kill. "Miss Swan…"

And hallelujah, that's all I needed.

"Mrs. Young is a 24-year-old gravida one, para zero female who presented at 38 weeks with premature rupture of membranes and known breech presentation…"

I proceed to rattle off my presentation fluidly without so much as a hesitation, the adrenaline coursing through my veins and urging me on as I purge the information like I'm on a mission from God. By the time I finish presenting my last patient, I feel like I've just run a marathon, and all I want to do is suck down a gallon of water. I look over at Alice, who is beaming at me like a proud mommy, and I suck in a breath as I return my gaze to Dr. Baker.

His lip quirks into a small smirk, and he gives me a slow nod of his head. "Nice save, Miss Swan. You had me worried there for a second." He proceeds to hand us our patient assignments and reminds us about Grand Rounds. I release a long, loud sigh as he leaves.

"Christ on a stick, I need a fucking drink," I mutter, and Jasper chuckles.

"Kiss-ass," he teases, and pokes me in the rib with his elbow.

"Hardly," I mutter. "I just had visions of being transferred to STD clinic for the rest of the rotation. Amazing how motivating that can be." My stomach rumbles to remind me how neglected it feels. "Listen, I want to get through my patients fast so I have time to get a bagel before Grand Rounds. See you there."

**XXX**

I make it to the auditorium with my second-rate cafeteria bagel with only a few minutes to spare. I take my seat next to Alice, who is leaning close to Jasper in an intimate discussion. I roll my eyes as I sit down. "Will you just get a room already?" I hiss as I take my seat.

She just gives me a wicked smile. "Workin' on it," she retorts, and she leans back in her chair as the lights dim and the lecture starts.

Nooo…dim lights…captivating lecture about menopause…eyelids so, so heavy…

I scoot myself upright in my seat and stuff a piece of bagel into my mouth. I chew with renewed vigor as I try to revive myself and at that moment, wish I could drink coffee.

I find my eyes wandering around the room of their own volition, and I'm not the least bit surprised when they land themselves on a set of broad shoulders and the back of a wildly disarranged head of hair. How pathetic. It seems that I have built-in Edward radar, no doubt directly wired to the horny ovaries. I let out a long, girlie sigh as I admire his profile and watch as he shifts in his chair a bit. I reflexively shift in my own seat, stealing a glance at Alice, making sure I'm not caught this time around. But she's leaning in and murmuring to Jasper, so I know she's well occupied and I'm in the clear. I pop another small piece of my bagel into my mouth and let my eyes return to their preferred destination. But when they reach it, I almost choke on my breakfast.

Because the last thing I expect when I peek back is to find Edward peering right back at me. Now my eyes are paralyzed like a deer caught in the headlights, locked with his intense gaze.

The bagel almost gets stuck in my throat as I swallow it so quickly it actually hurts. I want so desperately to look away, but I can't. An invisible force keeps my eyes glued to his…probably only seconds go by, but it feels like an eternity. I watch his face—which is totally unapologetic for so brazenly holding me hostage like this—as his lips twitch and lift up on one side into the most arresting, seductive, lip-licking smile I have ever seen.

_Holy fuck._

Well, smack my ass and call me Sally. I now completely understand the term "panty dropping."

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you think you may be a candidate for BRCA testing, here's a link for more information : )
> 
> http://www.myriadtests.com/index.php?page_id=68


	10. Chapter 10

**EPOV**

**  
**

Great. Yet another fascinating lecture about menopause. That will certainly help to keep me awake this morning.

I settle into a chair close to an exit door and take a large sip of the crappy coffee from the hospital's hole-in-the-wall café. I usually avoid it at all costs, but this morning's rounds ran a little late, and crappy coffee is better than no coffee.

Man, do I feel like shit.

Most likely because I slept like shit.

It isn't unusual for me not to sleep much on a call night. I'm used to chronic sleep deprivation by now, as I usually have a hard time winding down after a busy night. It's difficult for me to shut my brain off, and I have a tendency to rehash the cases and patients of the day, especially if there was a particularly interesting or unusual one.

But that wasn't the issue last night.

I was more than willing to put the relatively routine day to rest and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep, but every time I closed my eyes,  _she_  was there.

I was impressed with her obvious zeal and dedication to learn, and I enjoyed the way her face would light up when I let her try something new. But there was something more…the way she bit her full lower lip while she was concentrating on something; the subtle, fresh smell of her skin—or was it her hair? Sitting with her while I helped with her suturing proved to be a form of delicious torture, as her scent teased and taunted me, giving me an unsettling urge to bury my nose in her neck. She was slowly driving me to serious distraction.

I let my eyes idly wander around the auditorium as the lights dim and the lecture starts. I double-check every head of long brown hair until I finally identify Bella Swan's unmistakable mahogany hair tied up in her signature ponytail. I allow myself to wonder what that hair would look like falling loose about her shoulders and think about how the strands would feel between my fingers. I admire the curve of her long, graceful neck as it disappears into her lab jacket. Her face is turned away from me, and I lean my head a bit to try to get a better view. My eyes meander back up her throat, and they linger appreciatively on her full lips as I watch her place a piece of food in her mouth…but then she unexpectedly turns her head and looks directly at me.

I'm completely caught off guard until I see the sheer surprise on her face, her large eyes wide, and for a moment I'm concerned that she'll choke on her food. I see her swallow heavily, and she doesn't just look startled, she looks…embarrassed? Guilty even?

It takes me a moment to process as I continue to lock gazes with her, when the realization hits me that she's embarrassed that  _she_  was caught looking at  _me_.

A smile sneaks across my face, and in response, her lips part in the most beguiling way, causing a Pavlov reaction down below that makes me grateful that I'm wearing loose scrubs.

_Thank God for lab coats._

She looks away first, breaking the connection, and I'm actually relieved but disappointed at the same time. I draw a deep breath and force my attention back to the presentation, completely bemused by what just happened.

**XXX**

I'm grateful to have the rest of the day off and sleep like the dead for a good four hours as soon as I get back to my apartment. I wake up ravenous and scour the fridge. All I find that is edible is some leftover Thai takeout from the weekend. I open it and sniff it, and with unenthusiastic resignation, I sit down at my kitchen counter and eat it cold out of the container.

What I wouldn't give for some more of Bella's fucking stellar lasagna from last night.

I can't even remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal, and I definitely can't recall one  _that_ good. I think back to how she watched me taste it with that hopeful expression on her face. It was kind of…sweet.

 _Fuck_. Now I can't even eat without her popping into my head.

I finish my lackluster lunch quickly and decide I'm due for a good workout. That's one of the things I love about living here; I have pretty much anything I could possibly want within walking distance—including a small, local gym that has a great boxing program. A little bit of self-abuse should be just what I need to clear my head and get back on track.

**XXX**

Thursday morning is filled with routine cases, mostly laparoscopies and one D&C. I try to make an effort to involve Bella wherever I can, allowing her to suction while I cauterize, hold retractors, and ask her to identify relevant anatomy. I know she enjoys being challenged, and I find her enthusiasm infectious, which in turn makes me want to give her more responsibilities. As I close up the last laparoscopy incision of the morning, I pause to look up at her, noting how intensely she watches my hands while I suture. In a spur of the moment decision, I decide she's ready.

"Swan, finish these last few stitches for me." I look up as I hand the needle holder over to her and watch as excitement and gratitude light up those impossibly deep brown eyes, and a warmth radiates from her that makes me wish I could see the rest of her face.

I watch patiently as she begins to suture with trembling hands, surprised to see that despite their unsteadiness, she is still able to place her stitches with remarkable accuracy. Though it may take her a little extra time, she accomplishes a first-rate result. I tell her so, and the way she beams at me as she thanks me causes a strange stir of emotion within me that takes me by surprise. I briefly consider asking her to join me for lunch, but think better of it, and tell her to meet back in the OR at 1:00 p.m.

"Hey, bro. You goin' to the deli?" Emmett comes up behind me as I'm grabbing a water bottle from my locker.

"Planned to. You have anything else in mind?"

"Nah. I gotta make it quick and get back to L&D. It's pretty busy today."

We walk across the street to the deli, and I get my usual turkey and swiss hero. Emmett gets an overstuffed Italian hero and a large bag of potato chips, and I can feel my arteries clogging just by watching him eat it. The guy is a human garbage disposal.

"So, how are things goin' with the Swan chick?" he asks right before he takes a huge bite of his sandwich.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Fine. She's a good student."

Emmett just smirks. "I'm sure she is," he quips suggestively. I feel my jaw tighten, but I'm not going to play along. "Alice is a sharp one, too. I get a big kick out of her. Has a mouth like a truck driver and is funny as hell. She lives with Bella, you know. She talks about her all the time."

Fucking assclown. He's about as subtle as a flying brick. Does he really expect me to jump all over him and ask what he's heard about Bella? I just nod and take another bite.

"I hear Newton's got a thing for her," Emmett continues.

I really don't care. So why do I open my mouth? "For who, Alice?"

"No, Bella. He was telling Tyler how he couldn't wait to 'tap that ass.'"

I snort. "Yeah, right. Like he'd ever have a chance." Fucking tool bag. I aggressively take a big bite of my food to keep myself from saying something stupid.

Emmett raises his eyebrows. "Why not? I don't get the impression from Alice that she's seeing anyone."

The thought of her with Newton makes me want to punch something.  _Preferably, his face_. You just don't talk that kind of shit about a girl like Bella. I continue to take my hostility out on my sandwich and realize that it's quiet…something that's a rare occurrence around Emmett. I glance up to find him staring at me with a smug expression.

"Shut the fuck up, Emmett. Since when did you turn into a fucking gossip girl?"

He snickers, and I want to wipe those goofy fucking dimples right off his face. He stuffs the remainder of his hero into his mouth and washes it down with his soda.

"So what are you doing this weekend?"

_Thank God for the subject change._

I hadn't really thought about it. "No plans, really. You?"

"I'm thinking about going to Tara's Saturday night to watch the Yankees game. Interested?"

Tara's Inn is a low-key local bar that has really good food, and it's a popular hangout for the hospital staff. Emmett and I used to go after work pretty regularly until both our schedules got more demanding. It's been a while, and I definitely needed to get out.

"Count me in."

**XXX**

I continue to let Bella suture a bit for the remainder of the day, and I notice her hands get a little steadier the more she practices. As I watch her work, I can't help but wonder if she's chewing on her lip under her mask. The thought makes me smile.

"You seem to be getting the hang of things," I tell her as we finish the last case of the day. I take my cap off and ruffle my fingers through my hair. Bella gives me a shy smile with just the slightest hint of color gracing her pretty cheekbones.

"Thanks," she answers softly. She's obviously not very comfortable with compliments. "And, um…thanks for letting me. You know, suture. I really appreciate it." The color on her face deepens curiously. I want to touch her cheek and see how warm it feels. I clench the surgical cap in my hand and stuff it into my pocket.

"No problem. You earned it." I feel the right corner of my mouth lift into a smile, and she responds with a small, sweet smile in return. I love the way it illuminates her face.

"Well, see you tomorrow," she finally says, and I watch her put on her lab jacket. It then occurs to me that we're going to be back on call together tomorrow night.

"Don't forget to bring back my suture board," I remind her. "And I'm looking forward to whatever you're bringing for dinner." She has no idea how much I'm looking forward to it.

That earns me another smile. I decide to press my luck a bit. "Got any chocolate left, Swan?"

Her smile broadens, and she looks in her pocket. She retrieves two milk chocolate minis and offers them in an outstretched hand. I take them both from her, holding her deep cinnamon eyes to mine, and gently brush her delicate fingertips as I retrieve the candy. That elicits a soft gasp from her parted lips, and I turn to go before I do something completely inappropriate.

I can't stop myself from replaying the events of the day in my head as I drive home, though none of them have anything to do with any of the day's cases. I then realize that for possibly the first time ever, I can't wait to be on call.

**XXX**

Friday's caseload is heavier than usual, but the day seems to fly by. Bella has really integrated herself well into the surgical team, and I'm sorry that this will be her last day in the OR. I love the fact that I only need to tell her something once and she takes it from there, now anticipating what I need during cases. She's a pleasure to work with overall, and I like how she treats the patients as well. She has a kind, gentle bedside manner that I think will serve her well. I make sure to let her do as much as possible today, and I'm pleased to see how well her suturing skills are progressing. She seems to be getting more control over her tremor as she gets more comfortable.

By the end of the day, I'm dying to get to the residents' lounge and find out what Bella brought for dinner. She's already there when I arrive, standing next to the microwave with her back to me. I take a moment to admire the subtle curve of her ass before I make my presence known by pulling out a chair to sit down.

I rub my hands together. "What's for dinner, dear?" I tease. The fucking amazing aroma filling the lounge is making me salivate.

"I hope you like macaroni and cheese." What, like boxed Kraft mac and cheese? My hopes sink for a moment until I see the two plastic containers she places on the table. Suddenly, I feel like I've hit the jackpot.

"Is this actually homemade?" I quickly grab my fork and take a large mouthful of the rich, creamy pasta. I think my eyes actually roll back in my head because it tastes so fucking good.

"Why do you keep asking me that? Do you think I have a personal chef or something?" Her words throw me off guard, but her tone is teasing.

"What? No…it's just that I can honestly say that I've never had homemade macaroni and cheese before. I never realized what a lacking existence I led." Why do I feel like I'm always apologizing to this girl?

She just grins, and we eat our dinners in a surprisingly comfortable silence. I almost feel guilty for wolfing my food down so quickly, but she looks pleased. I wonder if she'd care if I licked the container clean.

I lean back in my chair and rub my full belly with a lazy, satisfied grin. "That was fucking awesome," I tell her. "But I feel a little guilty for liking it so much. I was so head over heels for your lasagna, and now I feel like I'm cheating on it."

She laughs at me. "You know, that has to be the cheesiest thing I've ever heard. But I'll take it as a compliment."

I stand quickly to pick up the containers before she can start to clear them. She thanks me softly, then her eyes widen, and she raises her eyebrows. "Oh! I almost forgot."

I watch her curiously as she gets up and takes something out of her messenger bag. She pulls out my brown bag with all the suturing equipment and another plastic storage container. I crane my neck to try to see what's inside it as she brings it to the table.

"I made dessert." She proceeds to set the container down in front of me and opens it. I peek inside and see several large brownies. My jaw goes slack, and I try not to drool on the table. "And before you ask, yes, they're homemade."

_I want to fucking jump over the table and kiss the shit out of her._

"They're double fudge brownies. With dark chocolate chips."

 _Fuck that. I want to marry this girl_. She peers at me through her lashes, and I'm so fucking done.

"Bella, I—" I don't even know what I'm about to say, but luckily my pager cuts me off. I watch her face fall as I reach into my back pocket and check the number. "There's a case in the ER," I say, and it sounds like another apology to my ears. I just put on my lab coat, and she follows me to the Emergency Room in silence.

I stop at the nurses' station and ask who paged me. I cringe when I see that it's Jane Elson. She's not even remotely subtle in her flirtation with me and doesn't get the hint that I'm not even remotely interested. I sigh with resignation and ask her what she's got for me.

She hands me a chart. "Hi, Edward," she coos in a saccharine-sweet voice. "I feel like I never see you anymore."

As if she ever saw me much to begin with. "What's going on?"

"We've got a thirty-one year old with left lower quadrant abdominal pain. The pelvic sono showed a five-centimeter ovarian cyst with normal blood flow and no evidence of torsion. She's been screaming for pain meds since she's gotten here. I'm sorry to bother you, I'm sure she's just a typical drug-seeker." She huffs and rolls her eyes. "But you know, protocol and all."

"Was a pregnancy test done?"

"It was negative."

I just nod as I scan through the chart. She was seen at the clinic one month ago with similar symptoms, was found to have a four-centimeter left ovarian cyst, and was placed on oral contraceptives. I go over the case with Bella and take her with me to evaluate the patient.

"Hello, Miss Murphy? I'm Dr. Cullen, one of the ob/gyn residents," I greet her. She's lying on her side in a fetal position. She has a pretty, round face covered with light freckles. Her makeup is smudged under her eyes from crying. I get a sick feeling in my gut and offer her my hand.

"Oh, God, please tell me you're here to do something about the pain," she pleads. "That fucking bitch nurse won't give me anything." I fight back a smile. She's right. Jane is a bitch.

"I may be able to help you with that, but I'm going to need to examine you first," I tell her, and gently help her move to her back. She's in obvious discomfort, and she lets out a yelp when I gently palpate her abdomen. She has guarding and pinpoint tenderness in the left lower quadrant.

I take a little more history from her and find out that the pain hit her suddenly about three hours ago, and it was becoming progressively worse. The more I hear, the stronger that nagging feeling in my gut becomes.

I review the sonogram with Bella and point out the cyst and the adequate blood flow. "If the cyst was twisting, it cuts off the blood supply. The sono shows normal blood flow to the ovary, but it's possible that there could be intermittent torsion," I explain to the patient, but also for Bella's benefit as well. I replay the sono one more time, looking for something that I could have overlooked, but see nothing.

I tell Bella to stay with the patient while I go back to the nurses' station. I find Kate Simon, another ER nurse who I find far more tolerable.

"Hey, Kate. Could you tell me who the ob/gyn attending on call tonight is?"  _Please don't be Baker._ The guy is a fucking idiot and will blow the case off because he won't want to come in.

"Sure, hang on a sec." She smiles at me as she checks the computer. "Looks like it's Dr. Garvey."

 _Perfect_. "Could you page him for me? And could you please have someone give Miss Murphy some pain meds? I'll write an order for Morphine."

Dr. Garvey calls back ten minutes later. "Sorry to bother you, Marcus, but I think I need you." I present the case to him, including the sono results. "I wanted your opinion, because something just isn't sitting right. She's presenting like a classic ovarian torsion, and I just wonder if it's intermittent and they didn't catch it on sono. I want to take a look."

"I trust your judgment, Edward. If you think you need to take her to the OR, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I sigh in relief. "Thanks, Marcus. I'll see you then."

**XXX**

"Well, Edward, I think we've found our answer." After prepping the patient for an emergency laparoscopy, we discover that Miss Murphy has normal blood flow to a completely normal, cyst-free ovary. Marcus does, however, find a five-centimeter cyst with torsion of her left fallopian tube.

Now  _that's_  something you don't see every day.

"That was a lucky call," Marcus tells me. "That fallopian tube would have been necrotic if we waited until tomorrow, and it would have needed to be removed."

And with that, I suddenly feel like a fucking superhero.

**XXX**

"That had to be the coolest case I've ever seen," Bella gushes as we finally get back to the lounge. "I've never even heard of a fallopian tube cyst. They aren't that common, are they?"

"No, not at all. That's actually the first one I've ever seen," I answer honestly. "Marcus wants to present it in Grand Rounds next week."

The look she gives me at that moment makes me feel like a superhero  _and_ a rock star. "You know, you saved that woman's fallopian tube," she murmurs. "That really was an impressive call on your part."

This girl is fucking killing me slowly.

I give her a wicked grin. "Then, maybe it will make up for the fact that I'm about to kill an entire container of innocent brownies."

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Good luck with that." She laughs. "You'll have one hell of a chocolate hangover if you do."

I snatch the container of brownies off the table and plop myself down on the couch with them. "They're all for me, right?"

A sly smirk plays across Bella's lips, and she cocks her eyebrow at me. "I believe you were the one who told me that sharing is caring."

I raise my eyebrows back at her. "And  _I_ seem to recall that you  _still_  refuse to give me any of your dark chocolate in spite of it."

She gives me a pointed look. "And  _I_  recall explaining that you didn't deserve dark chocolate at the time.  _And_  you were staring at my dinner like a poorly trained puppy dog."

"What? Haven't I deserved to earn dark chocolate status by this point? Haven't I redeemed myself?" God, I am so fucking mature.

She tilts her head to the side and curls her feet under her on the chair next to me. "Did I not mention the brownies had dark chocolate chips?"

_Touché._

"Well, if I'm going to put myself in a diabetic coma, I may as well take you down with me." I hold the container out to her. She thanks me and rolls her eyes as she takes one.

I pick up a brownie and take a bite. It's rich, chewy, and an all-around dense block of chocolate sin. I never eat this kind of shit, and I can't even recall the last time I had a brownie. Or macaroni and cheese, for that matter. I have a feeling I'm going to be hurting big time tomorrow. I take another bite…  _So fucking worth it._ I'll pay my dues at the gym.

"Oh my God, I think you may be the gastronomic Antichrist," I say. "Are these things even legal?"

She giggles. "I prefer 'culinary goddess,' thank you very much. And yes, I promise they are legal. I even have a permit."

I shake my head as I grin at her, and I watch with a bit too much interest as she licks chocolate off her fingers, completely unaware of what she's doing to me.

 _Fuck. Me_.

_You don't shit where you eat, Cullen. And it's definitely not a bright idea to shit anywhere near Chief Swan._

I definitely need some air. I decide it's a perfect time for a Starbucks run, and I ask her if she wants anything. She declines and has a puzzled look on her face.

Ah, Bella…if I could only explain.

**XXX**

I return from Starbucks with a chai tea latte for her. I'm pretty sure she doesn't drink coffee, and I just felt like I should bring her something. When I get back to the lounge, I see that Bella has fallen asleep on the chair with a book in her lap.

I quietly sit down on the couch and steal the opportunity to take a good look at her. Her lips are slightly parted, and she looks so peaceful, so young. She really is an exceptionally pretty girl, with a heart-shaped face and high cheekbones, a bottom lip that is noticeably fuller than her top lip, and a light smattering of freckles across her delicate nose. She has a few wisps of hair in her face that have come loose from her ponytail, and I'm dying to smooth them away from her face.

She shifts her head, and then softly mumbles. "Salt."

What?

"Butter…"

I stifle a laugh. Bella talks in her sleep? This is too goddamn cute…

"…Lemon. Definitely needs more lemon."

What is she doing—cooking? I wait a few minutes to see if she'll say anything more, but my pager has other plans and starts to go off. The sound wakes Bella with a jolt, and I watch with amusement as she wakes up, disoriented.

I check the number and see that it's L&D. "Come on, Bella," I say with a sigh. "Time to go."

**XXX**

The remainder of the night is quiet and uneventful. Bella practices suturing, and I read journal articles on my laptop. She seemed to really like the chai latte, so that was a good call. When I realize it's a little past midnight, I decide to call it a night and tell her I'll page her if anything is going on.

I find it nearly impossible to fall asleep. The girl is getting under my skin, and I have no idea what to do about it.

Even if she  _wasn't_  Chief Swan's daughter, it was pointless to pursue anything with her. She admitted that she planned on going back to Washington after graduation, which was barely three months away. I was starting a fellowship in New York for the next three years. And I don't see her as the casual "fling" type.

 _But_ …

I toss and turn with that nagging "but"just loitering in my head, until I finally succumb to a restless sleep.

The following morning, I feel no closer to a resolution. But when I'm in the lounge getting my things to go home, who should happen to walk in but Bella Swan.

"Heading home?" I ask, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.

"Finally," she answers, and I see slight shadows under her eyes. She looks tired.

I realize that I will no longer be working with her in the OR, and the only time I'll be seeing her is on call nights. The thought saddens me. I think about the meals she brought in for me, and the fact that she actually made homemade brownies.  _For me_. I should return the favor somehow, shouldn't I? That would be appropriate, right?

"You know, there's a really good diner down the street from here. I was kind of in the mood for one of their omelets this morning. Care to join me? My treat?"

She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and answers with a shy smile. "Sure. I'd love to."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never ending gratitude to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their incredible beta skills and to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, and Prettyflour for prereading.

****

The diner is a short walk, maybe four blocks away from the hospital. I had been pretty tired and was looking forward to going home and going back to bed for a few hours, but Edward's offer to take me out for breakfast hit me out of left field, and I heard myself accept before my brain even got the chance to process it properly. I was now in overdrive, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to be spending time with Dr. Not-So-Much-of-a-Jackass away from the hospital.

Now, since the aforementioned unreliable brain actually decided to join the party, it was having a sit-down with the ovaries and trying to explain that this was not—by  _any_  stretch of the imagination—a date. So there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the ridiculous nervous fluttering in my gut.

Stupid _, stupid_  girl.

The small cafe is actually very quaint and reminiscent of those 50s-style diners. It's rather crowded already, and we're seated in a small booth in the back. I take in the mixture of enticing smells and check out the different dishes that waitresses carry by our table. As soon as I get the menu, I go directly to the pancake section and look for my favorite diner food.

"Have you ever had the pancakes here?" I ask Edward, looking up from my menu.

His menu lays closed in front of him. "Sorry, can't say I have. I stick to the omelets."

Egg whites, I'm sure. I'll bet any amount of money on it.

I see blueberry pancakes on the menu, but before I get too excited about it, I make sure I ask the waitress about them when she comes by to take our order.

"Excuse me," I ask the middle-aged woman with too much makeup and over-dyed brown hair, "Do the blueberry pancakes have blueberries inside the pancakes, or blueberry preserves on top?"

Yeah, I know. I'm one of those people. But I can't help it. I absolutely  _love_  blueberry pancakes, but not if they have that artificial pie-filling crap on them.

The waitress remains unfazed. "We have both."

I do a little internal happy squeal. "Can I get a short stack of blueberry pancakes then? Blueberries inside and no preserves please?" I ask, making sure I am crystal clear to avoid any confusion. I turn my eyes to Edward, who has that amused smirk on his face. It makes me feel self-conscious, and I have the urge to smack it off.

I quirk my eyebrow at him, effectually daring him to make a comment, and he just gives me that smug grin and then directs his attention to the waitress. He proceeds to order a vegetable omelet with Swiss cheese.

With egg whites, of course.

Once the waitress leaves with our order, Edward leans forward, resting on his folded forearms on the table. "I'm starting to get the impression you're very passionate about food."

I raise my eyebrows and cock my head to the side. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all." He chuckles at my defensiveness. "I have to admit, I like a girl who actually enjoys food."

Maybe I'm being oversensitive, but I'm not quite sure how to take that. I guess I am a little food-obsessed…

He must sense my unease, and he looks away while rubbing the back of his neck. "I seem to have a knack for saying the wrong things to you," he finally says with a wry grin.

I smile sheepishly and look down at the table. "Well, maybe I just have a knack for bringing out the worst in you."

My favorite grin spreads across his face, and it gets me all hot under the collar.

"You may be on to something there. Maybe we should start over?" he asks, and extends a hand out to me. Dr. Charming is back, and I'm rendered completely incoherent. "Hello. My name is Edward Cullen, and my mother taught me impeccable manners."

I bite my lip to fight back a huge, goofy and embarrassing grin, take his hand and shake it. The thrill it sends through my body to just  _touch_  him unnerves me.

Oh yeah. Words. I'm supposed to say something back. I didn't think it was possible, but I seem to be getting stupider by the minute.

"Nice to meet you, Edward. My name is Bella Swan, and I'm very passionate about food." His smile gets even bigger, and I'm wondering what the Surgeon General would have to say about this man.

_SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Edward Cullen causes palpitations, bizarre disjointed thoughts, and loss of brain cells. May also cause spontaneous ovulation and wet panties._

I release his hand reluctantly and drop both of mine into my lap. The last thing I need is for him to notice how bad my tremor is right now, and let him see how much he's affecting me.

"So, Edward…"  _God, I love saying his name_. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

He leans back a bit, and I watch as his brow slightly furrows and that shmexy muscle in his jaw twitches.

Hmmm...That answers my question.

"It depends."

_Noted._

"Well, I just can't help but wonder…" I draw it out a bit, just to see if I can make that muscle twitch again.

Mmmm…and there it is.

He raises his eyebrows, prodding me onward. But I see a hint of trepidation in his eyes. Does it make me a bad person that I may be enjoying this a bit?

I fold my arms on the table and lean forward. I notice Edward's eyes flit ever-so-briefly to my breasts, which are now being pushed upward as they rest on my forearms.

Now, this is getting more and more interesting by the minute.

"How is it that you've gotten this far in life and never had homemade macaroni and cheese? Didn't your mother ever cook for you?" I ask with a sweet smile.

His face relaxes and he smirks. "Actually, my mom cooked all the time. But she was a devoted doctor's wife and only cooked healthy meals. Something tells me that if she ever did make it, her version wouldn't have even closely resembled yours."

"But my version is totally healthy. Low fat  _and_  low cholesterol."

The look he gives me is priceless. He's trying to read my face to see if I'm actually serious. "Bullshit."

I answer with a wicked grin. "Obviously."

He shakes his head with a smile. "You know, there was never any 'junk food' in the house when I was growing up." He chuckles to himself. "The first thing I did when I went away to college was stock up on Lucky Charms, Devil Dogs, and Ramen Noodles."

A fleeting image of a younger Edward, crouching in a corner and protectively hugging a package of Oreos, enters my mind. I stifle a giggle. "You poor, deprived soul. I wonder if that would be considered child abuse in some states."

He rubs the back of his neck, still smiling. "I'll be sure to mention that to my mother the next time I see her."

The waitress returns with our food, and my eyes widen as she places the dishes on the table. My pancakes are absolutely huge and practically fill the entire plate. The aroma of blueberries and vanilla fills my senses. I make a pretty swirly pattern of syrup on them and use my fork to cut a small piece to taste.

Oooooooh... _my mouth just died and went to heaven._ They are absolutely perfect. I may have even done a little happy-shake in my seat.

Oh, yeah. They're that good.

At that moment, I realize that I probably  _did_  do a little shimmy in my seat because I realize Edward is staring at me with a curious, but definitely amused expression. I bite my lip and feel my face heat up, but refuse to acknowledge.

"You have to try these," I say, and begin to cut off a piece for him to sample. "They're absolutely amazing."

"Oh, no thanks, that's...all right..." His words trail off as I place the piece of pancake on his plate. He just looks at it, and then looks up at me. He looks hesitant—maybe uncomfortable?

I immediately feel bad. I share food with friends all the time without giving it a second thought, but I've clearly overstepped a boundary here. "I'm sorry," I immediately mumble. "I can take it off your plate if you want..."

His face relaxes, and he stops me. "No, no...It's okay. Thank you," he says softly. He cuts off a piece and takes a bite. His eyebrows raise, and he nods his head slowly. "Wow. That really is good."

I sigh in relief and smile. We eat in silence, as I'm coming to expect with him. His omelet is overstuffed with sautéed vegetables and has cheese oozing onto the plate. It looks really yummy. If I were eating with Alice, I could just reach over and take a piece. But of course, I wouldn't dare do that with Edward.

"Your omelet looks really good," I comment. Maybe he'll return the favor of a sample?

He nods. "It is."

He continues to eat.

_Okay, maybe he won't._

He glances back up at me. "I think it's my turn to ask you a personal question."

I tense up infinitesimally. "Sure."

"I just really want to know what you plan to specialize in. Somehow I don't think you'd put this much effort into learning how to suture unless you plan on doing it."

I sigh and push a blueberry around my plate. I guess there's no reason not to be completely honest…he's been very generous about allowing me as much practical experience as possible up to this point. I just hope that knowing I'll be going into Pediatrics won't change that.

"The pediatric practice I worked at back home offered me a full-time position." His face is blank, and I can't read him. "I really love working with kids, and it's a great opportunity. But I'm still not completely sure I'll take it. I really enjoyed most of my clinicals—well, maybe not Geriatrics, but everything else. I'm still trying to keep my options open."

"Do you plan to do much suturing in Pediatrics?"

"It's really important to me to be able to suture well, because both the doctor and the PA I worked with stitch all the time. It saves parents a trip to the ER." I look down at my plate of half-eaten pancakes. "Besides, with my hands, I need all the practice I can get. And this rotation will be my last chance to work on it."

I glance back up at him, and he's now leaning back in his seat. "Well, for what it's worth, you're getting much better control of your tremor. I don't think it will be an issue for you."

He gives me a smile, but for some reason, it almost looks strained. He turns his attention back to his food. Is he annoyed? He's so impossible to read. It's really beyond frustrating.

I watch him take a drink of his water, and something about the way he holds his glass strikes me as unusual. I'm trying to figure out what looks so awkward about it, when I realize that his pinky finger is actually tucked under the glass.

_How odd…_

Upon closer inspection, I notice the finger is swollen at the proximal joint and has a "hooked" appearance. There's a small, linear, silver scar along the side of it. How could I have not noticed it earlier? I've spent so much time watching those lovely digits of his. How did this escape my attention?

"It's a Boutonniere deformity." His soft voice interrupts my inner musings, and my eyes meet his. His expression is…guarded. "I was in a car accident. My finger was dislocated at a ninety-degree angle. Splinting and surgery couldn't fully correct it."

A car accident? When did it happen? Was it serious? Was that his only injury? I grab my water and take a large swig, giving myself a moment to collect my scattered thoughts.

"I can't believe I never noticed it," I reiterate my thoughts out loud and cast a timid glance at him.

"Most people don't." He rests his hand flat on the table, and I see that while his other fingers lay flush to the surface, his pinky doesn't fully straighten. I want to ask him more about it, but he picks up his fork and occupies himself with his omelet. I get the distinct impression that the discussion is definitely over.

Just fucking great.

I really do have a knack for bringing out the worst in him.

I turn my attention back to my awesome blueberry pancakes, but for some reason, they don't taste as awesome anymore.

The waitress returns to our table and asks if we want anything else.

His eyes dart to mine for a brief moment.

 _Do_ you want anything else, Edward?

_Because I do. I really, really do._

His lips twitch, and he looks back at the waitress. "I'll have some more coffee, thank you."

I can't hold back a shy smile. "And I'll have a decaf tea, please."

**XXX**

"So, what do you have left before graduation?" Edward asks, sipping his black coffee.

"Well, I have Psychiatry next. At Queens General again, actually." I glance at him, measuring his reaction. He raises his eyebrows and nods.

"That will be rather interesting." He chuckles.

_It could be._

"Oh, I'm sure it will be. I've heard stories." I grin. "After that, I have a five-week Outpatient Internal Medicine rotation. Then I graduate at the end of June. Piece of cake."

After a bit of lighter conversation, we finish up, and Edward walks me back to the hospital. I'm ashamed to admit how much I'm wishing this morning wasn't ending. The more time I spend around him, the more I crave it.

"Well, thank you for breakfast. That was very generous of you."

"Hardly. You've been feeding me for the past two call nights. I just want to make sure you continue to." The corner of his mouth lifts, and my eyes just vapor lock to his lips. He hasn't shaved yet, and the shadow of scruff along his jaw line is downright… _indecent._

I have to leave. Now.

His smile broadens, and he tilts his head to the side with a roguish glint in his eyes. "See you Monday night, Bella."

"Yeah…goodnight," I mumble back, as I turn to go to my car.

_Goodnight?_

Goddamnit. I really need to petition the Surgeon General.

**XXX**

"And where the hell have you been?" Alice accosts me the moment I open the door, effectually killing my Cullen-buzz. "Do you ever check your phone anymore? Why are you so late?"

The raven-haired elf is in full-on rage mode for some reason. I'm completely taken aback. I take my phone out of my pocket and see that it was turned off. "I'm sorry, Alice. I didn't realize my phone was off. I was just out getting some breakfast. Sorry I didn't tell you,  _Mom_."

Her eyes narrow at me. "What do you mean you were just out getting some breakfast?" She follows me into the kitchen, and I set my messenger bag down on the small table.

"I mean, I went out for breakfast. You know, the first meal of the day. There's this little diner near the hospital that makes the best blueberry pancakes…" God, I love fucking with Alice.

"Fuck the pancakes. Spill, Bella!" she practically squeals at me and pushes me into a chair. She pounces into a seat and watches me intently.

"It was nothing," I say nonchalantly. "Edward just took me out to the diner. I got blueberry pancakes. And he had an omelet."

She grins ear to ear. "Dr. Fuck-Me took you out to breakfast?"

I roll my eyes, but I can't contain the smile that gives me away. "It was really nothing, Alice." I stand up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to bed."

"Sure, whatever you say." She trails after me and follows me into my room. "Oh, and you'll definitely want to rest up. We're going out tonight."

"We are? What's going on?" I don't remember making plans for this weekend. Truth be told, I was looking forward to vegetating for the rest of the day.

"Emmett told me about this little pub near the hospital. He says it's a lot of fun, and they have good food. And apparently very good drink specials." She waggles her eyebrows.

I change into an old tee shirt and a pair of plaid boxers. "I don't feel like schlepping all the way back to Queens tonight," I whine and unceremoniously plop onto my bed. "And we can't drink if one of us has to drive, anyway."

Alice's eyes dance with mischief. " _We_  won't be driving," she adds, and climbs up onto the bed and starts jumping on it. " _Jasper_  will."

I bite my lip as a smile takes over my face. Poor Jasper doesn't stand a chance tonight.

**XXX**

"Wow, look at you!" Alice exclaims as I walk through the door.

"You like?" I ask, preening for her. On a whim, I decided that my hair had grown long enough and was in desperate need of a serious pruning. Alice recommended her salon, and I was pleasantly surprised at how nice they made my hair look. It still flowed past my shoulders, but it looked shiny and healthy for once and curled in soft, stylish waves around my face.

She walks around me and looks me over. "I definitely like."

"What time is Jasper coming by?" I ask, taking a water bottle out of the fridge.

"He's picking us up at eight." Her eyes are bright with excitement.

"Is it just the three of us?" Suddenly, the idea of potentially being a third wheel doesn't sound so appealing. "You know, you're a big girl, Alice. You don't need me to hold your hand. If anything, I think you two deserve some quality time alone. Actually, I think I feel a headache coming on…I'm sure Jasper would understand."

"Don't be ridiculous." She scowls at me. "You need a night out just as much as I do. And Emmett will probably be there, anyway."

Even better. He'll probably be there with Nurse Barbie, and then I can be the fifth wheel.

"Bellaaa," she whines at me. "Don't do this…I need you there. It will be fun. And you look way too hot to be sitting around the apartment in your boxers all night." She gives me those stupid puppy-dog eyes, and I just roll my eyes and concede.

"You're lucky I like you, Alice," I mutter, taking a gulp of water.

"You love me," she quips with a playful grin.

I sigh with resignation…Of course I do. How could I not?

**XXX**

I wasn't sure how to dress for this place, so I settle on a deep blue cashmere cardigan with a light camisole top layered underneath. I've paired it with my FM jeans— aptly named because they do fucking magical things to my ass—and a pair of brown equestrian boots. I'm pleased with the way my makeup looks, since I usually don't wear much at all, and I've managed to keep it natural.

Alice is dressed to kill in a pretty, flouncy top, with a pair of dark-rinsed skinny jeans and heels.

Judging by Jasper's reaction when he sees her, I'm quite certain her mission is accomplished.

Like I said, the poor guy doesn't even stand a chance.

Tara's is a relatively small, unassuming pub-style bar. It's rather crowded, but it isn't too loud for conversation. The three of us squeeze through the bar area to a section with tables in the back. As we wait to be seated, I spot a large arm waving us over.

"Alice! Bella! Over here." The large arm is attached to Emmett, who greets us with a wide, welcoming grin. "Glad you could make it." And lo and behold, there, sitting at his table, is Nurse Barbie—looking gorgeous and flawless, of course.

"Emmett, this is Jasper." Alice introduces the two men, and they exchange a manly handshake.

"Come on, have a seat. We're just watchin' the game." He ushers us to his table and grabs extra chairs for us. "You guys remember Rosalie, right? She works over in L&D." He looks at me while he says her name, and I smile and nod. She returns a small smile and quickly directs her attention back to the game.

The three of us squeeze in at the table, and Emmett starts talking baseball with Jasper.

I definitely need a drink.

There's a large blackboard on the wall with the specials of the day written on it. I skim over it until something catches my eye.

"Hey, Alice, what is a 'Long Island Iced Tea'?" I'd heard of them but never tried one.

"Are you kidding me? You've never had one?" She looks surprised. "How could you be living on Long Island all this time and not have tried one? That's just unconstitutional!"

I shake my head with a grin. "Well, I guess it's about time to remedy that, don't you think?"

I'm a little surprised when the waitress serves us the pint-sized glasses of what looks like real iced tea, complete with lemon wedge garnishes. I'm even more surprised when I find out it actually tastes a lot like…well, iced tea.

"These are really good," I say to no one in particular. I can detect an undertone of alcohol, but it doesn't taste strong at all, and it goes down really easily.

I'm about three-quarters of the way through my drink, and I've officially decided that Emmett McCarty may very well be one of the most entertaining people I've ever met.

Other than myself, of course.

We've all gotten into exchanging stories about our funniest patient-related experiences, and I'm beginning to worry that Emmett is going to make me pee in my pants.

"I swear—you can't make this shit up!" He laughs. "So there I am, with this woman's knees trapping my arm in this freaky death grip while I still have the speculum inside her. She keeps screaming at me to take it out, and I'm trying to calmly explain to her that I can't until she releases my arm…"

Now  _that's_  a visual!

Aw, fuck— I really am going to pee in my pants if I don't get to the bathroom. I excuse myself from the table and get up to find a restroom.

I'm annoyed to find that there are several people already on line for the ladies room, but my bladder is calling the shots right now, so I bite the bullet and wait.

I seem to have worked up quite a thirst after the epic wait for a turn in the ladies room, so I decide to get another round of that tasty iced tea. I work my way up to the bar and order two of them, figuring Alice would be ready for a refill as well. I glance around the room while I wait for my drinks.

I'm taken by surprise by the feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, hello there, Bella. I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

My eyes widen, and my entire body heats up, as I'd know that velvety, seductive voice in my ear anywhere. I whip my head around to find my now favorite doctor, in all his fuckhot glory, standing right behind me.

And as I take in his magnetic green eyes, freshly ruffled sex-hair, and panty-liquefying smile, it becomes all too clear to me.

I don't stand a fucking chance.


	12. Chapter 12

****

**  
**

If I didn't think it was possible for Edward Cullen to get any hotter, I was sorely mistaken.

Because what stands behind me—wearing a button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves, worn-in jeans, and a day or two's worth of neatly groomed scruff accenting a pornographic jaw line—is downright delectable.

And by the smirk on his face, he is completely aware that I am shamelessly eye-fucking him.

Out of nowhere, I let out a stupid girlie-giggle. I'm one of those people that laugh when I'm nervous and smiles at inappropriate things. It's an irritating habit, but it's completely involuntary. I look away briefly and draw in a deep breath to clear my head.

"Good God, that has to be the cheesiest line yet." I snort. "I really do bring out the worst in you, don't I?"

He scratches the back of his neck, still wearing that fucking cocky smirk. "You must. And here I thought I was being so clever," he says with a chuckle. "You do clean up rather nicely, though."

That makes me bite my lip.

"Thank you." If I didn't know any better, I would think that Dr. Fuck-Me was actually  _flirting_  with me.

But I really should know better…right?

"Two teas?" The bartender pulls me out of my daze and I pay for my drinks. Edward orders a beer and then glances at the two glasses, and I notice his jaw twitch.

What's that all about?

"Who are you here with?" he asks, his brow slightly furrowed as he glances around the bar.

"My roommate, Alice. I'm not sure if you remember her. She's been in L&D with Emmett," I reply, and his face relaxes. "Actually, he's here, too."

His eyes narrow, and he looks over my shoulder with a strange expression on his face. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?" I think I may be a little confused here.

"I'm meeting him here."Edward pays for his beer and takes a swig from the dark brown bottle. My eyes are drawn to his Adam's apple as it bobs up and down as he swallows. "You know where he is?"

Edward is here to meet Emmett.

Alice brought me here to meet up with Emmett.

Somehow, this is triggering something remote in the cobwebs of my mind. Like high school geometry, maybe? Isn't that some kind of mathematical law or something? I know there's a name for it, but I can't remember it for the life of me. But somehow it seems very relevant right now…

"Bella?" Edward is staring at me curiously, snapping me out of my bizarre little brain-teleport.

"So…if you're here to meet Emmett, and I'm also here to meet up with Emmett as well, then aren't you technically here to meet me by default?"

"Okay…" He furrows his eyebrows, and looks at me like there's something strange growing out of my ear. "Yeah, I guess you  _could_  look at it that way…"

"The Law of Syllogism!" I exclaim out loud, entirely pleased with myself that I was actually able to pull that ridiculous piece of knowledge out of my ass, and then immediately self-conscious for blurting out said piece of useless knowledge like I'm on some game show or something. Especially since I have no idea if it's even correct. I take a few gulps of my iced tea to wash down my embarrassment.

Edward just looks at me for a beat…and then his lips slowly pull into a lovely, bone-softening grin, and he chuckles lightly. "You know what, Bella? I think, in a  _very_ roundabout way, you may actually be right."

My lips answer with a smile of their own, and at that very moment, I feel like he actually  _gets_   _me_. And all at once, I'm stupefied and absolutely enamored by this beautiful, enigmatic man before me.

**XXX**

The six of us have settled in with a few appetizers to pick at and pitchers of beer, and I'm finishing my second glass of tea.

Or is it my third? Nah—I'm pretty sure it's just my second.

_Isn't it?_

I'm having a surprisingly good time, and it doesn't even make me remotely nervous that the most luscious and fuckable man on this God-given earth is sitting right next to me. And I'm not even breaking a sweat at the fact that he is sitting so close to me that my knee brushes against his every time either of us shifts in our seat.

Which I do quite often.

Actually, I am coooool as a cucumber. I think I may finally be developing some immunity to Dr. Fuck-Me's voodoo charm.

Alice and Jasper are getting along like peas and carrots, and Alice is obviously feeling no pain. I know this because her voice has gone up several octaves, and she's gesturing animatedly as she speaks. Sure telltale signs of Alice intoxification.

Wait—is intoxification even a real word? I'm pretty sure it is. If it isn't, it totally  _should_  be.

Rosalie is much more fun than I ever would have imagined once she warms up. I can definitely tell what Emmett sees in her now. Well, that is, besides the obvious _._

She's filling us in on some very juicy gossip about the illustrious Dr. Baker. Edward describes him as a "weasel" who got the position as Department Head because his father is on the board of directors for the hospital. But Rosalie has dirt on him that's far more interesting. Apparently she found out he had been cheating on his wife with one of the residents from last year, Victoria Conway.

"So, Victoria threw him under the bus the moment he dumped her. She even told me that he used to enjoy wearing her underwear and was especially partial to white lace."

Alice and I burst out in a fit of giggles, and Jasper almost does a spit-take, guffawing loudly. "That is fucking priceless!" he says, and I can safely say that he'll be taking  _that_  visual with him for the rest of the rotation.

I may have felt a teeny, tiny twinge of guilt at that moment as I cast a sheepish glance at Edward, and I thank the Lord above that he can't read minds.

I take the last sip of my drink and start crunching on some of the half-melted ice cubes remaining in the glass.

Emmett watches me and chuckles. "You know, Bella—they say that chewing ice is a sign of sexual frustration."

Alice almost snorts her drink out of her nose as she starts laughing. I roll my eyes at the both of them and dismiss them with a wave of my hand.

"Pffft…Oh, please. How very unoriginal of you, Emmett." I turn to Alice and give her a kick under the table. The punk ass biotch actually sticks her tongue out at me, so I wrinkle my nose and make an equally immature face back at her. I catch Edward out of the corner of my eye, who takes a swig from his beer as his eyes roam away from the table.

Rosalie seems to find this amusing as well. "You know, I think it's actually associated with iron deficiency anemia. Maybe that's why you passed out the other day?"

My eyes widen a bit and I wave a finger at the too-perfect blonde supermodel sitting across from me. "You! You, missy, have a big mouth! And so nice of you to rat me out to Captain Insensitive, here!" I spat, gesturing over to the big lug sitting next to her.

Rosalie laughs, and Emmett pretends to look wounded. "Hey! I'm a very sensitive guy!" he protests with a mock-pout.

Rosalie smiles at him and pats his cheek. "Of course you are."

"Aw, come on, Bella, you have to admit. It was rather funny." Edward leans into me, giving me a nudge, making me flush and sending my heart rate into a galloping frenzy.

 _Fuck_ …So much for immunity.

"Actually, I do it because I like it when it squeaks."

Crickets and blank stares all around.

"What? Didn't you ever notice that sometimes ice squeaks a little when you chew it? Just like snow squeaks when you walk on it? It has something to do with temperature and pressure or something." I huff. "Really! You can Google it!"

Edward looks at me, cocks his head to the side, and strokes his chin with his thumb and index finger. "You really are kind of special, aren't you?"

I hear Alice snort. "You have no idea."

And with that, I've had enough abuse for the evening. "I need a refill," I announce and stand up abruptly. As I do, my body may rise to the occasion, but the blood to my brain does not, and I almost fall backward while my poor body realizes the car is in motion but the driver is MIA.

Edward stands quickly and grabs me around the waist, helping me regain my footing. And now the feeling of his hands _on me_  is throwing me into a dizzy tailspin, as I stare at him wide-eyed, his face so close…

"You smell really good," I hear myself blurt out.  _Fuck, did I really say that out loud?_

"Maybe getting some water would be a better idea," he mutters, and though I see concern in his eyes, there's a bossy edge to his voice I don't care for.

I gently pull away from him, lift my chin, and smooth my clothing. "Thank you, I'm fine." Edward frowns, and I look around the room for a distraction.

I need to regroup.

Rosalie stands up and joins me. "I think I could use a refill, too." She links her arm with mine, and I see her shoot a glance at Edward.

I walk with Rosalie to the bar, and she orders two club sodas with lime. I offer her a gracious smile, realizing what she's doing for me.

"You're really sweet," I say.

She smiles softly. "I should have warned you about the Long Island iced teas here. They sneak up on you and bite you in the ass. Trust me, I know."

Really? I hadn't noticed.

We head back to the table with our sodas, and Alice bounces up to us. "Jasper and I just got the pool table. You guys wanna play?" She's so funny. She reminds me of a Jack Russell Terrier when she drinks.

"Oooh, I love pool!" I turn to Rosalie. "You in?"

"I've got to warn you, I'm very competitive."

I crack my neck. "Bring it, Barbie."

Rosalie lifts an eyebrow at me. "Did you just call me 'Barbie'?"

_Oops._

Fucking filter breakdown.  _Not a good sign._

I just smile and shrug. "You should hear what I call Alice."

**XXX**

Man, do I suck!

I'm usually a pretty decent pool player. I used to play pool with Jacob and his friends all the time. But I can't seem to hit a single ball tonight. The only one I did manage to get in wasn't even mine.

It's my turn again, and I try to set up my shot. As I'm leaning across the table, checking the alignment, I feel a hand run from the middle of my back down to my hip.

_Who the fuck is touching me?_

My body tenses, and I look up to see a tall, olive-skinned man with medium length wavy dark hair who obviously thinks he's fucking Rico Suave hovering over me. I narrow my eyes at him and move away from his pawing.

"You're holding it wrong," his uninvited voice murmurs into my ear. "Here, let me help you."

"I don't need any help, thank you," I retort. I try to ignore him, but I feel his hand return to my hip, slipping dangerously close to my ass. I bolt upright, my fist tightening around the pool stick. I'm about to tell him off—and not quietly—but as I'm about to open my mouth, another voice interrupts.

"Everything okay over here?"

I know that voice. It's the one that twists my insides and makes my heart stutter. I turn around and see Edward standing behind me, scowling at my unwelcome friend. His words are benign, but his body language says otherwise, and his expression is downright intimidating.

I gotta admit—it's pretty fucking  _hot._

"Hi, Edward!" I greet cheerfully, eternally happy to see him. Rico eyes Edward up and down and takes a step backward. He nods at me and walks away.

I feel an internal sigh of relief, and I beam at Edward. He's still scowling a bit, and I give him a quizzical look.

"Umm, thank you?" I say to him, though it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. He still looks a little agitated, and my dirty mind thinks of a few things that could ease his tension. I place my hand on his chest and quirk my eyebrow. "Did you come over to play with me?"

"Bella," he says with a sigh. "I think you may have had enough for tonight."

"Pshhhht…I'm totally fine," I insist, though I know I'm completely full of it. I use the hand I have on his chest—a rather firm feeling chest, might I add— to push off of him as I turn abruptly to walk away, but I almost lose my balance in the process.

Edward catches me by the arm and glares at me. "Sure you are."

I'm momentarily irritated with him, but then something catches my eye over his shoulder. "Ooooh, they have darts! I love darts! I'm very, very good at it. Wanna play?"

Edward finally lightens up and snorts. "You think I'd trust you with flying sharp objects right now? Not happening." He slips his arm around my waist. "Come on, let's go get some fresh air."

"Chicken," I mutter under my breath, but I let him guide me through the bar.

Dr. Fuck-Me has his arm around me, and it's making me utterly lightheaded…or could the fact that I might be completely schnockered have something to do with it?

Nah, I only had like, two drinks. Or three? Whatever. This has  _got_  to be all Edward.

Haha…schnockered is such a funny word, isn't it? I wonder who thought up that one.

Edward escorts me outside, and there's a fine mist of rain in the air. His arm is still around my waist, and I lift my head up to get a good look at him.

Sigh…chiseled jaw, beautiful green eyes that look all intense and broody right now, and lips that look so soft…

"You're so pretty," I croon at him with a lazy grin. Really. He is.

He furrows his brow and gets this funny half-assed grin on his face. "Bella, you are absolutely wasted." He shakes his head slowly. "Come on, let's get you home."

I shake my head furiously. "What? No! Tonight Alice and Jasper are supposed to hook up! I can't ruin that by making them take me home early!"

Edward releases me and rakes his fingers through his hair. He looks back at the bar for a moment, and then he returns his determined glare back at me. "Fine. Then I'll take you myself."

"You don't have to drive me home," I insist stubbornly, pulling away from his grasp. "Maybe I can just take a nap in Jasper's car until they're ready to go home."

Strong arms grab me, and before I know what even hit me, my body is lifted and thrown over something large—and not only is everything upside-down, but it's moving.

Or am I moving? The ground is moving.

And I have a lovely view of Edward's denim-clad ass.

_That's a mighty fine ass you got there, Edward._

"Thank you," Edward says. "Glad you like it."

_What the fuck? Does the dude read minds or something?_

Edward laughs. "No, Bella. You're speaking out loud."

 _Well, fuck me sideways_.

"Tempting offer, but I really think you should sleep this off, first. Then I'm open to discussion."

"You can't just drag me off like some kind of fucking caveman!" I protest and give him a good, swift slap on his fine ass.

"Yes, I can. I'm bigger. And sober."

_Stupid, pretty, green-eyed bully!_

"I can hear you, Bella." He fucking snickers at me!

"Oh, just shut up and get out of my fucking head!" I hiss.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"I can't believe you're doing this," I mutter under my breath. I let out a frustrated huff. I watch the ground go by.

"Well, believe it, Bella. I'm taking you home."

"And what do you plan on doing with me then, Dr. Cullen?" I quip suggestively.

He hesitates for a moment before answering. "I plan to put you to bed."

_My, oh my. I certainly hope so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Hmmm...did she say that out loud, too?
> 
> Gotta love Long Island iced teas.
> 
> Oooooh...and since I'm a total food whore (in case you haven't noticed), I have an amazing food rec! Talenti gelato—Caramel Cookie Crunch. The smoothest vanilla gelato with dulce de leche and chocolate covered cookie crunch. I'm talking life-changing, people. Seriously. I'm obsessed.
> 
> Many, many thanks to Pennyloafer, Beccagold, Prettyflour and Fernn for being all shades of awesome, and to mcc101180 and Love of Escapism for their amazing beta work.


	13. Chapter 13

**EPOV**

**  
**

Bella is a fucking hot mess.

A beautiful, absurd, geometry-law-quoting, thinking-out-loud mess.

And I want to wring Emmett's thick neck right now, because I know that fucker orchestrated this whole fiasco.

Though, I do have to admit…uncensored Bella  _is_  quite entertaining.

And rather enlightening.

As I walk to my car, listening to Bella grumbling incoherently along the way, I'm wondering how the hell the night turned out like this. The last thing I expected was to be hauling an inebriated Bella Swan over my shoulder and driving her home.

But this girl does bring out a protective—and distressingly possessive—side of me. And after witnessing the scene at the pool table, there was no way I was letting her stay any longer.

Seeing her leaning over the table, with her perfect curves on taunting display, nearly did me in.

Seeing some degenerate's hands dangerously close to her ass brought out such a disturbing, primordial reaction within me that it took everything I had not to eviscerate the douchebag.

Seeing her angry reaction to the groper filled me with a peculiar satisfaction and gave me the green light I needed to intervene.

Maybe Bella was right. She did seem to bring out the worst in me.

"How are you going to drive me home if you don't know where I live?" she asks, as I start up my car.

"Telling me your address would be a good start." As she does, I enter it into my GPS. "Voila."

She smiles, and she gazes at me like I'm a goddamn rocket scientist.

Silly, silly girl.

The long ride to her apartment is nothing short of interesting. She tinkers with my radio for a bit, changing a few stations, and then discovers my CD collection in the center console. She browses through them, making rambling, random comments about my eclectic taste in music. She's kind of driving me crazy, especially since she's taking my CDs out of order. But she's so cute and sweet about it that I can't possibly get annoyed.

She even scolds me for going liberally over the speed limit—yet another reminder that she is a cop's daughter.

When I realize that she's been quiet for the last several minutes, I glance over at her to find that she's passed out.

At that moment, I wonder how I could have ever considered her merely pretty. The sight of her—unguarded and peaceful, her long hair framing her delicate features—is stunning. The urge to touch her, smell her, taste her...it's killing me.

"Bella," I call her softly, lightly shaking her shoulder once we get to her apartment. "Bella, you need to wake up."

She swats my hand away. "No," she mumbles.

I can't help but smile as she pouts her plump lips and turns her head away from me. She's not going to make this easy for me.

Why should that surprise me?

"Come on, Bella, you're home." I give her shoulder another gentle shake, and she startles awake. She looks around, wide-eyed and disoriented. Her confusion dissipates when she sees me, and a gorgeous, beaming smile lights up her face.

She leans on me as I help her to her door, and after watching her fumble with her keys for a few minutes, I take them from her and unlock the door myself. I try to guide her inside, but I'm met with resistance and she starts to pull at my shirt.

"I don't want to go home yet," she whines. "I want ice cream. Can we get some ice cream? Pretty,  _pretty_  please?"

I sigh and shake my head as I open her door and steer her inside.

"You're no fun," I hear her grumble, and it makes me chuckle.  _So fucking cute._

Her apartment is very open with minimal furniture, but it's accented with clearly feminine touches. It's a little stuffy inside, and Bella mutters something about the "stupid thermostat" and takes off her cardigan, carelessly tossing it on a chair. I'm caught off guard and immediately distracted by the way her long hair falls around the newly exposed skin.

I assist Bella as she stumbles to her room. Somehow, in the many times I've admittedly imagined getting into Bella's bedroom, it certainly didn't play out quite like this.

She gracelessly plops herself down onto her bed and begins to pull on her boot, seemingly trying to take it off. After several moments of fruitless tugging, she lets out a frustrated moan and releases the uncooperative boot with a huff.

"It's broken." She groans with an adorable pout.

I sit down on the bed next to her, biting back an amused grin, and I look into her eyes.

"Would you like some help?" I request gently. She lets out an exasperated, dramatic sigh and submits.

I take her right foot in my hand and gently unzip the first boot. She watches me with a defeated expression on her face as I carefully pull it off and set it on the floor. When my eyes return to hers, I see that her expression has changed. She places her other foot in my lap, and this time regards me intently as I repeat the process with the other boot. She leans forward, and there is now intensity in her eyes that makes my pulse race.

She scoots herself closer to me on the bed, and she tilts her head to the side as her gaze roams my face. I feel a heavy twinge in my chest as she studies me with sultry, hooded eyes, and she raises her hand slowly, tentatively toward my face…stopping mere inches away.

"May I?" she murmurs.

I don't answer, but I don't pull away. When I feel her fingers make feather-light contact with my cheek, I draw in a slow, deep breath and let my eyes drift close as her fingertips graze my jaw. I sigh and feel the tension dissolve as they softly trace the line of my chin, then brush gingerly across my lips.

_What the hell is she trying to do to me?_

I open my eyes and find her gaze following the path of her fingers. Beautiful, bottomless brown eyes meet mine, and I watch her expression shift from shy uncertainty to resolution. I'm wondering what's going through her mind…and then I feel her hand move from my face to the back of my neck, and she suddenly pulls me toward her and presses her lips to mine.

My body tenses at the initial shock, and something in the dark recesses of my brain is screaming at me to stop this…but her lips are so soft, and so warm, and I feel a rousing current course through my veins as I let the fresh, inviting scent of her skin envelope me.

_She feels incredible._

She pulls me closer, molding her lips and body to mine, and her fingers weave through my hair. My body responds to her on its own accord, and my hands caress her face and drift down to her neck. When her lips part to deepen the kiss, I'm just fucking done.

_Just one little taste…_

She opens up to me and I'm just lost in the delicious overload of sensation; her breasts crushed against my chest, fingers caressing my scalp, the sweetness of her mouth, her distinct Bella-flavor—laced with a subtle undercurrent of… _alcohol._

_Fuck._

My brain commandeers just enough blood supply from down below to realize how many shades of wrong this is, and I gently pull away as my dormant conscience actually kicks in.

I brace myself for the confusion and rejection I expect to see in her eyes, but instead I find them glassy and dazed, and she's swaying minutely.

"Bella?" I cup her face in my hand, stroking her soft cheek with my thumb.

"Umm…a little dizzy," she mumbles so softly I barely hear her, and she clutches my shirt, attempting to keep her balance.

An odd sense of relief washes over me, and I carefully help her lie down. I brush her long hair away from her face and let my fingers drag through the soft, silky strands. She sighs in contentment as she lets her eyes close. The moment fills me with a surprising but comforting warmth.

I rise from the bed, watching as she rolls onto her side and curls up. I don't want her to get cold, but she's lying on top of her covers. I glance around the room and spot a throw blanket tossed over a chair. I grab it and drape it over her.

I take one last look at her before I leave, my mind jumbled with conflicting emotions. As I turn to go, I hear her whisper my name.

"Don't go," she murmurs, her eyes still closed. "Please, don't go."

I'm not sure if she's still awake or if she's talking in her sleep, but her words melt me.

_She wants me to stay._

How could I say no?

I couldn't possibly leave her alone in this condition. I need to make sure she'll be okay.

"I'll stay on your couch until Alice gets home," I concede. "I'll be here if you need me."

She smiles softly and hugs her pillow. I watch her for a bit longer, until I see her breathing lull into a slow, steady rhythm.

As I settle onto her couch, I turn on the television and the Food Network comes on. It makes me smile. Of course Bella watches the Food Network.

It then occurs to me that  _a lot_  of what Bella does makes me smile.

I just sit there, conflicted, frustrated, and horny as fucking hell.

I sort through the events of the evening…particularly the part when Bella kissed me. I find myself replaying that part over and over…

The only thing I'm sure of at this moment is that I want _more._

_I want her._

**XXX**

Someone is calling my name.

I get up, following the familiar, alluring voice, and it leads me to Bella's room.

The door is halfway open, and I look inside to see if she's talking in her sleep again.

But she's awake. Bright-eyed and sober. And waiting for me.

Wearing nothing but a thin sheet wrapped around her torso.

She cocks her eyebrow at me with a seductive smile and beckons me over with her finger.

That's all the invitation I need.

Clothes?  _Gone._

Reservations?  _History._

I pin her naked body beneath mine, and her full lips part, desire and need in her rich chocolate eyes. Her glossy hair spreads out across her pillow, and I'm mesmerized by the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest.

_So fucking gorgeous._

I hover over her, my forearms holding my weight, my hands cupping her face. I capture her bottom lip between my own, and she's so sweet, so pliant, so eager. The tip of her tongue tentatively seeks mine, inviting me in. She is warm and delicious…tongues caress and intertwine. I want to consume her; I need to sample every inch of her.

I bring my lips to her neck, gently sucking a delicious spot under her ear, which makes her whimper. I take my time working my way down the column of her neck, sprinkling warm, wet kisses, savoring her skin. I can feel her fingers thread through my hair, massaging my scalp, egging me on as I nip at the dip of her collarbone.

Her skin tastes like chocolate.

My hands roam around her body, exploring and learning what she likes, what makes her moan. The scratch of her fingernails up and down my spine is giving me chills, and I can feel her anticipation building.

 _God, this is going to be good._  I want to drag it out, tease her. I want to hear her beg for me.

She begins to squirm under my weight as I make my way down to the swell of her breasts. Her nails scratch my scalp as I kiss the creamy alabaster skin, and it feels fucking fantastic. I circle my tongue around the edges of her firm nipple, and she sucks in a sharp breath when I finally take it into my mouth. Her body arches, and she wraps her legs around my hips, drawing me even closer.

She's managed to align herself with my cock, grinding her sex against me, panting. She's so fucking warm and wet and ready, and my control is hanging by a thread.

I try to center myself, listening to the heady rhythm of her breathing. She's driving me fucking crazy, and it takes everything I have to hold myself back, to keep up this torturous pace.

"Please," she breathes. "I want you. God, please..."

_Hell fucking yes._

I attack her mouth with my own and draw back, so ready to bury myself in the Holy Grail, when I feel it.

Cold, hard steel, pressing into the base of my skull.

"Go ahead, you little punk. Make. My. Day."

Chief fucking Swan going all  _Dirty Harry_  on me wakes me up abruptly, my body in a cold sweat, my erection now cowering in surrender. I sit up, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes, and I swallow down the urge to scream out my frustration.

It always ends this way. Usually I don't get this far in the dream before he shows up. But it seems that even my subconscious won't let me have her.

Yet the more time I spend with her, the more frequent and more  _vivid_ the dreams become.

It takes me a moment to realize that I'm still on Bella's couch. I glance at my watch and see that it's after four in the morning.

The lights are still on in the living room, and so is the television. I'm guessing that Alice isn't home, or I would have heard her come in. And judging by the way she was all over Jasper, there's a good chance she won't be at all.

I want to check on Bella and make sure she's okay, but peeking in on her while she's sleeping,  _especially_  after that fucked-up dream, would make me feel like a creeper. Instead, I listen outside her door without looking in, and I'm satisfied when I hear her slow, rhythmic breathing.

I don't know what to do.

_Should I stay, or should I go?_

My mind drifts back to the dream…it seemed  _so real._  And there are parts of it I desperately wish  _were_  real.

But there seemed to be so many obstacles to consider if I wanted to pursue Bella.

First of all, I'm her preceptor. To start a relationship with her while she was still my student felt sleazy. I wasn't some unethical douchebag like Baker, who was notorious for fucking around with residents under his supervision.

Second was the fact that Bella was going back to Forks after she graduated. I was committed to a fellowship in New York for another three years.

It was like having an expiration date before anything even started. I couldn't think of her that way.

Last, and probably most important, was the issue of Bella's father—Chief Swan thought I was a "piece of shit."

I believe those were his  _exact_ words.

Granted, that was about nine years ago. But I highly doubt he'd forget about that night, and I also doubt that his opinion of me has changed.

Yet I also had to bear in mind that Bella was a grown woman, and all I could do was give her all the facts and let her decide what  _she_ wanted.

I scrub my hand over my face as I let the complexity of the situation settle in. And I come to grips with the fact that it's time to have a long talk with Bella.

And soon.


	14. Chapter 14

_Oh my God, I need some water._

I startle awake, disoriented as to where I am. My head feels like it's imploded. And I'm pretty sure there is moss growing on my tongue.

I realize I'm in my bed, and I'm wrapped up in a tangle of sheets. It's still dark, and when I glance at the clock and see that it's 6:23 a.m., I immediately panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm so late—Pencildick Baker is going to fucking ream me—how could Alice let me oversleep—

And then I realize that it's Sunday morning…and it all starts to slowly unfold in my head.

_Oh good God…_

I definitely need a drink of water. And Advil. Yes. Advil would be very, very good right now.

I untangle myself from my sheets and find my jeans wrapped around one leg. I grumble as I gracelessly kick them off.

I almost trip over my own two feet as I climb out of bed, cursing at myself as I regain my footing. I stumble into the bathroom to relieve my screaming bladder and brush the moss out of my mouth.

When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I groan out loud. I look like something straight out of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show._ I tie my hair up and wash my face with cold water to try to make myself feel a little more human. I grab two Advil—on second thought, make that three—from the medicine chest.

I head into the kitchen for something to drink and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. I start to chug it as if my life depended on it.

"I like your apartment. It has a fantastic view."

The familiar, silky, and definitely male voice scares the living  _shit_  out of me, and I shriek loudly as my body jerks in surprise, effectively spilling my water all over the kitchen and myself.

And to add insult to injury, I realize—to my utter and complete mortification—that I am standing in front of my open refrigerator wearing nothing but a now wet camisole and underwear! I curse loudly and duck behind the open door.

I peek out from behind it and find Dr. Sex-Hair sitting on my couch with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin plastered on his face.

"What the  _fuck_  are you doing in my apartment?" I screech in a total panic, my heart racing a mile a minute.

The cheeky bastard chuckles softly. "Why so shy now? You certainly weren't last night."

The brain goes into full-fledged panic-mode, while the ovaries are hi-fiving each other. I start scrambling through jumbled flashes of memories from the previous night; the Long Island iced teas…playing pool…an upside-down view of Edward's ass…watching him take off my boots…Edward's lips…

I gasp out loud.

_No, I didn't…._

_Did I?_

I duck down behind the door again, squeezing my eyes shut. No, no, no…this is  _so_  not really happening. This is definitely just a dream, and any minute my high school biology teacher is going to show up and announce a pop quiz I'm not prepared for…

"Bella?"

_Fucking A! That is definitely not Mr. Banner's voice!_

"Are you going to stay behind there forever?"

_Hell yes I am!_

"Do you intend to come out, or am I going to have to come get you?"

 _Hmmmm…_ I actually consider the possibility for a split second and then reconsider. I pop my head over the door.

He's reclining with his arm comfortably draped along the back of my couch, the picture of ease: shirt rumpled, hair sticking up in every which direction, and the goddamned smuggest, sexiest grin on his mug.

"I am not moving an inch with you out there! You—go into my bathroom. And shut the door.  _Now_!"

His smile broadens, and I watch as he rises from the couch, his hands held up in surrender. He slowly walks toward my bathroom, and once I hear the door shut, I sprint to my bedroom and shut the door.

I rip the wet camisole off my body and throw on a hoodie and jeans as my brain tries to fit the puzzle pieces together in my head. I remember Edward driving me home, but from that point on details get hazy; and though I keep getting flashbacks that showcase his beautiful lips, I have no clue which ones are fantasy versus reality.

The undeniable fact remains, though, that Dr. Fuck-Me-Please is in my apartment. At this very moment.

And I have no idea why.

I take a few deep, cleansing breaths to collect myself. I try to ignore the fact that this man has just seen me hung-over and looking my very worst, and in my underwear, no less. I square my shoulders and put on my game face. It's time to find out what the fuck is going on.

I find Edward sitting at my kitchen table. His hair looks a tad bit less disheveled, but his cocky, "I-know-something-that-you-don't" smirk makes me uneasy.

Instead of joining him at the table, I lean in the doorway, arms folded across my chest, keeping a comfortable distance so I can think straight.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?" I ask carefully.

His lips twitch with amusement. "What exactly  _do_  you remember about last night?"

 _Oh fuck me_ …Is he going to play games, now?

I look around the room, trying to hide my building frustration. I decide to keep it vague.

"I remember…stuff," I reply weakly. Unfortunately, all of the "stuff" I remember is beyond embarrassing, and nothing I care to discuss.

He raises his eyebrows and strokes the stubble around his mouth with his thumb and forefingers. "Oh really? What kind of 'stuff' would that be?"

He's flustering me and he knows it. In fact, he's downright  _enjoying_ it.

I want to snap at him, but I can't really form a coherent thought because I am entirely too distracted by his mouth and the ever-present scruff on his face. I reflexively touch my lips and chin, and it feels a little sensitive…

 _Chaffed,_  perhaps…

 _Oh, good God_ …

I  _did_ , didn't I.

_Holy fucking shit on a goddamn stick._

"I know you drove me home last night—which was very generous of you, by the way." I glance back at him, to see if I can get a read off of him, but the way he's looking at me makes me feel so vulnerable and exposed. It's downright disturbing the effect he has on me. "But that doesn't explain why you're still here."

Edward sighs, and all cockiness leaves his face. "I stayed because you asked me to."

I feel my jaw go slack, because that was certainly not the answer I expected. He watches me intently, waiting for a response…but all I can manage is a quiet, "Oh."

_He stayed because I asked him to…_

I hesitantly join him at the table, and his expression is guarded as I take a seat opposite him.

"I was worried about you," he tells me softly, and his honeyed voice knocks my defenses down. "You drank way too much last night, and I wanted to make sure you would be all right. You asked me to stay with you, so I stuck around on the couch in case you needed anything until Alice got home. But she never did, and I fell asleep."

I do an internal fist-pump for Alice, realizing that she got her man last night. And then I get a little pissed, because I have more than a sneaking suspicion that she set me up.

The little hussy.

I then take a good look at Edward. Without the smug grin, he looks so tired. I immediately feel guilty that he somehow got stuck babysitting me, and I wish I could make it up to him in some way.

"Thank you," I murmur sheepishly. "I should at least make it up to you by fixing you some breakfast or something." I glance at him, cautiously hopeful that he'll take me up on my offer, but fully expecting him to want to get home and go back to sleep.

His familiar crooked smile takes me by surprise. "I think it's the least you could do."

I smile and bite my lip, shaking my head at him. "Would you like some eggs?" I offer as I stand up and go to the fridge.

"Actually, I was wondering if you had any lasagna left," he asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, and I suppress a giggle.

"Really? Lasagna, for breakfast?" He just shrugs, so I check the freezer. "There's still a little bit left," I tell him, peering over my shoulder.

Green eyes lock with mine, and his irresistible smile holds steady.

He makes me forget that I am pretty sure I made a complete ass of myself last night and should be completely ashamed of myself.

He makes me forget that I haven't even showered, and I look like shit.

He even makes me forget the ever-present dull ache in my head and the rot-gut feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Because in spite of all of that, Edward is right here. In my apartment. Because I asked him to be.

"Must be my lucky day," he finally says.

_Oh, yes. Mine too._

**XXX**

"So, what year did you graduate from University of Washington?" Edward asks, looking up from his plate.

"Two-thousand-eight," I reply, and I take a bite of my grilled cheese sandwich. Grilled cheese is my go-to hangover food. I crave greasy, salty and crispy for some reason, and I found that it always hits the spot.

He nods thoughtfully. "So did you graduate from Forks High School in two-thousand-four, then?"

My eyes shoot up to meet his. Is he actually bringing up Forks? I'm completely taken aback. "Yes, I did," I answer carefully. Where is this going?

He nods again and leans forward on the table. "That explains a lot. I graduated high school in ninety-nine. I've been wondering how we managed to grow up in the same town without ever crossing paths. I'm quite sure I would have remembered you if we ever did." He flashes me a mischievous grin, and it makes my heart flutter. He's flirting with me… _oh, good God_ …I feel my face growing hot again, and my eyes keep drifting to his lips.

His forehead creases, and he gazes at me intently. "Bella, how much do you remember from last night?"

I feel my face flame as embarrassment seeps into every fiber of my body. I draw in a deep breath and stare down at my sandwich like it's the most fascinating thing I've ever seen. I know he's waiting for me to say something, and I'm at a complete loss for words—at least any intelligent ones that I'd ever be willing to admit out loud.

"Edward, I'm so sorry," I mumble at my plate. "I don't usually drink that much, and those Long Island teas must have been really potent or something because I think I may have been a little bit out of control last night, but I swear—"

He interrupts my incessant rambling, saving me from shoving my foot any farther down my throat. "I didn't mind."

_What? Really?_

Wait—what exactly didn't he mind? Driving me home? Or umm...any of the other… _stuff_ …I peer up at him through my lashes, and silently implore him to continue. "Which part?" I ask, but my voice sounds so small.

"Any of it," he answers simply.

" _Any_  any of it?" Fuck…I feel like I'm in eighth grade again. But I don't want to be the one to bring up the three-hundred pound gorilla in the room.

"I didn't mind  _anything_  that happened last night, Bella." He leans closer, and the intensity in his eyes swallows me whole. "I find that I enjoy spending time with you. Very much, actually."

The air in the room just got heavier, and I'm now feeling…nervous. Like I'm suddenly aware of my breathing, and it's impossible to breathe naturally because of it.

"And I'd really like to spend more time with you, but I think there are a few things we need to discuss first."

I chew on my lip as I repeat his words in my head and wonder if he means what I  _think_  he may mean. Or at least what I _hope_  he might mean.

I then realize that he's waiting for a response, and I'm doing that spazzy, spacing-out thing yet again.

"I'm sorry…I'm still processing the 'I didn't mind' part," I rasp. I take a deep breath. I look into his eyes, and they appear sincere. Maybe even hopeful.

He ruffles his hand through his hair as his gaze wanders around the room. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was actually a little uneasy.

I push my grilled cheese to the side and lean forward onto the table, mirroring his pose. "Okay, then. What is it that you want to discuss?"

His eyes return to mine, and they are just so beautiful. "Well, like I said, I'd really like the opportunity to get to know you better. To spend more time with you." He pauses and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

And then the jaw twitches.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love the jaw twitch. For some reason, I find it sexy as hell. But I know what it means, and I don't want to see it right now.

It means there's a "but."

I internally roll my eyes at myself.  _Of course there's a "but."_

"But," he begins, and my heart falls.

And I'm not going to let him do it. If he has a "you're a great girl, but—" speech lined up for me, there is no way I want to hear it and then have to work with him every call night.

"Edward, it's okay," I interrupt, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. "You don't owe me any explanations." The words kill me to say, and I gently push back in my chair, trying to figure out an escape from this painful turn of events.

His eyes widen, and he immediately grabs my hand as I'm about to stand up. His unexpected touch causes a tightening in my chest that takes me by surprise, and I'm frozen in place and completely confused.

"No, you don't understand," he immediately says. There is an underlying urgency in his voice, and he doesn't release me. I relax in my seat, staring at our joined hands, and then slowly bringing my eyes back to his.

"No, I don't understand," I answer softly.  _Please explain,_ I plead with my eyes.

"It's just that it's a little complicated _._ You do realize that I'm still technically one of your preceptors. It's not exactly appropriate for me to pursue one of my students."

"Do you want to pursue me?" I blurt out.

He licks his lips. Oh, those lips. I could write sonnets about those lips. "Yes. Very much so."

My heart does that stuttering thing again. The ovaries are squealing and jumping up and down, and the girlie bits are becoming increasingly interested in the conversation.

"I'm not working with you in the OR anymore," I protest. "Technically, I'm only going to be your student for a few more weeks. And only when I'm on call."

His lips curl into a small smile. "You're going back to Washington in a few months," he adds. "You do realize that I'm going to be staying here in New York for my fellowship."

"A lot can happen in a few months," I murmur, and I realize I'm leaning closer to him.

His thumb strokes mine ever so softly, sending delicious chills throughout my body, and he holds my gaze. I am trying so hard to keep my wits intact. I'm so lost in this moment with him, and I wish I could just freeze it. Keep it. I give his hand a light squeeze.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he releases me, curling his hand into a fist.

"There's one more thing," he says quietly, and something about his tone sends a painful pang through my chest.

I purse my lips and my brow furrows. Good God, the emotional rollercoaster this man is putting me through!

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I mutter, and I can't help but wonder if this is it, if this is the moment he tells me he's really in the witness protection program. Or that he has a baby-mama somewhere. Or that he was once a woman…please, please,  _please_ let me be wrong about the stilettos…

His eyes bore into me. "Remember I told you I was in a car accident?"

The crooked pinky. Of course I remember. I nod slowly.

"It happened a long time ago, about a month after I turned twenty-one. I was driving home pretty late one night. A deer ran into the road, and I guess it took me by surprise." He swallows thickly and shifts in his seat. "Even though I tried to avoid it, I lost control of my car. I ended up totaling both the car and the deer."

His whole body is tense, and though I feel badly, I don't quite understand what the big deal is. But I remain silent and patiently wait for him to continue.

"I got banged up pretty badly, but I was lucky. The worst injury I had was to my hand.

"The OnStar in my car alerted the police. Your father was the officer who responded to the accident."

Wait… _what?_

I sure didn't see that coming. Does Charlie have something to do with this?

"So this happened back in Forks, then?"

His jaw clenches again, and he nods. "I was on Highway 101, on my way back from a party at the beach."

My mouth forms a small "oh," as I realize the direction his story was heading. It was all starting to come together.

"When he found me, he could tell right away that I'd been drinking." He studies me, trying to gauge my reaction. I keep my expression neutral and sympathetic, but I'm cringing inside, because I know my father. I know how he can be about certain things. I know how he feels about drinking and driving…and by Edward's demeanor, I can guess that he does, too.

"For some reason, your father didn't give me a breathalyzer until after I was treated at the hospital, which was about two hours later. If he had tested me right away, I would have definitely gotten a DUI. I'll be forever grateful to him for that, because a DUI could have could have potentially hurt my chances of getting into med school.

"He didn't let me off all together, though. He gave me quite the memorable speech that night. He told me how irresponsible and reckless I was, and how lucky I was that I didn't kill myself or someone else. He made sure I knew exactly how little he thought of me."

I can only imagine what Charlie said to him, and I could tell by the pained look on his face that he's seriously filtering.

"Unfortunately, the accident just snowballed from there. My father was beyond furious and made no effort to hide his disappointment in me. It caused a tremendous amount of friction between us. And even though I didn't get an actual DUI, he made me pay what would have been the fine to charity. He made me take the eight-hour DUI class. He also took me off his car insurance policy. That—and the fact that I couldn't afford to replace my car— pretty much guaranteed that I couldn't drive again for a long, long time. That's one of the reasons why I chose to go to medical school in New York City, because it has a good public transportation system, and I didn't need a car for anything."

I sit and listen, watching him fidget with his food, toy with his fork, run his hands through his hair. His body language and facial expressions convey just as much as his words— his embarrassment, his regret, even his shame.

I want to comfort him. Reassure him that people are allowed to make mistakes. Tell Edward I don't care what my father thinks, and that I think he's wonderful.

Because he is wonderful. He really is. I wish I could actually tell him that.

But I can't.

"I'm sorry that happened, Edward. I really am. But that was so long ago. And look where you are now. Even with that funkadelic pinky of yours, your hands are so amazingly talented."

Edward's eyes flash to mine, and a completely unexpected wicked smile plays across his lips. "Amazingly talented hands, hmm?"

Oh, good God…rendered speechless…maybe because my foot is in the way…Goddamn, it's fucking hot in here!

"I'm getting some more water," I announce as I stand abruptly. "Do you want some too? Here, I'll get you some…"

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

Avoiding all eye contact, I retreat to the fridge, where I just stand in front of it and stare while I let the cool air wash over me. I have an overwhelming urge to bang my head against something.

I take two water bottles out, and as I close the door, I feel a pair of hands settle on my hips. It catches me completely off guard, and my breath hitches as my heart instantly goes into overdrive.

"I tried to keep a respectable distance, Bella. But you make it impossible." His voice is low and husky. Oh, good God, what it does to me…"I don't have the energy to stay away from you anymore."

He's standing right behind me, and my body leans back into his completely on its own accord. I feel his fingers press lightly into my hips, and I am so incredibly aroused at this moment that I actually have to make a conscious effort to breathe.

_Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale…_

He dips his head down and grazes his nose from my temple down to my cheek, his soft stubble tickling me and sending chills up and down my spine, and he finally deposits the softest kiss just in front of my ear.

I simply melt. Just a little.

He lingers there for the briefest moment, and I revel in the delicious warmth of his skin next to mine. He then emits a low, soft groan and pulls away.

"I have to go."

_What?_

I want to protest. Every hormone-ridden cell in my body wants to protest. I turn around quickly. My eyes plead with his, but I see conflict and indecision written all over his face.

"It doesn't matter," I say gently. "Whatever my father said to you all those years ago. Or any of your other reasons. They don't matter." Because I want this. Whatever  _this_ is, I really, really want it.

He sighs and searches my face. I can't think. Or breathe. I'm not even sure if my heart is beating anymore.

He shakes his head slowly and brings his hand up to my face, cradling my cheek. He then dips his face closer to mine, hesitating for a moment, as if he's waiting for my acceptance.

 _Yes, yes, YES!_ My brain screams at the top of its lungs, praying he'll get the message.

And he does, because before I can completely die from the anticipation, he brings his lips to mine and softly brushes them, pausing for a second before dazzling me with the lightest yet most electrifying kiss.

A kiss that I can feel all the way down to my curling toes.

And now I am quite certain my heart is beating, because it feels as if it will burst right out of my chest.

But just as the girlie bits push the brain out of the way and jump into the driver's seat with a resounding "hell yeah," he pulls away again.

_God-fucking-damnit!_

I try to pull myself out of my haze as I refocus on his face. I wonder if it's possible, but his eyes seem so much darker, and the look on his face alone could make me self-combust. His lips twitch a bit, and the corner of his mouth lifts into the sexiest,  _cockiest_ , "I-know-what-kind-of-effect-I-have-on-you" smirk.

_Fucker._

"I really have to go now," he says and backs away. The girlie bits are downright pissed, but at least my brain steps in and takes the wheel again.

And my brain is reasoning that he's right. He does have to go. The ovaries and the girlie bits flip brain the bird.

I follow him silently to my door. He turns to me as he opens it. "Thank you for breakfast," he says with a warm smile.

I return the smile. "Thank you for taking me home. And, you know, umm…all the other…stuff." Babbling. I'm a fucking babbling idiot.

His smile broadens. "It was my pleasure."

As he's about to walk out the door, he pauses and looks at me over his shoulder. "Oh, and, Bella?"

I furrow my brow. "Yeah?"

He flashes me a playful grin. "Thank you for wearing boy shorts. I like the polka dots."

And with that, he's gone. Leaving me slack-jawed, speechless, and completely breathless.


	15. Chapter 15

"Well, well, well. The little tart has finally made it home." Alice waltzes in the door with a dreamy, self-satisfied smirk at around three in the afternoon.

"Spill, woman!" I demand. She drapes herself across the couch, and I plop down next to her.

She just grins and stretches languorously. "I am so deliciously exhausted."

I open my mouth to grill her for details, but she beats me to the punch. "I'm not saying anything until you tell me what happened after Dr. Fuck-Me went all caveman on your ass and dragged you home."

I feel my cheeks flame as the embarrassment floods back through me. Alice perks up and examines my face. "Something did happen! Tell me everything!"

I slump a bit in my seat, folding my arms across my chest. "There's really not much to tell. And I can't believe you totally set me up! Like you couldn't warn me about the Long Island iced teas?" I snap at her. "I made a total ass out of myself last night!"

"They are pretty potent, aren't they?" Alice giggles. "You certainly were in rare form."

"Yeah, and that's usually your job. But obviously you were a bit  _distracted_." I bat my eyelashes and make kissy-faces at her, earning me a light whack with a throw pillow.

"Quit deflecting. You really think I'm that easily sidetracked?"

 _Damnit._  Usually, yes.

I give in and tell the pared down, least embarrassing details of what I clearly remember—leaving out Edward's accident, of course. It occurs to me that everything between us was left up in the air, and I have no idea where this leaves us.

"I don't know…First he says he wants to pursue a relationship with me, and then he starts spewing off all of these reasons he shouldn't. I don't know what to make of it."

His concern with my father doesn't bother me. The only issue that really concerns me is the fact that he will be staying in New York. That, and the fact that he didn't seem willing to start anything until after I finish my rotation—which is still four weeks away—put a real damper on my horny Cullen buzz.

"So what?"

I stare at her dumbly. She seriously can't be that insensitive, can she? "What do you mean, 'so what?' Why would I want to start anything if it's doomed from the beginning?"

Alice rolls her eyes. "I mean, so what," she repeats flatly. "Why does a relationship have to be all serious and 'til death do we part'?"

I narrow my eyes at her. "I didn't say that," I retort, and my voice sounds a bit too defensive.

"Then what's the problem? Why not have a little fun with Dr. Fuck-Me and see what happens? He's from Forks, too, right? Does he have any family there anymore? Maybe it doesn't have to end once you go home."

I shake my head. "He does still have family in Forks, but that doesn't matter to me." I think back to Jacob and grimace. "I did the long distance relationship thing once, and it sucks balls. I vowed never to do that again."

Wait—why am I suddenly talking myself out of this?

Alice gives me a pointed look. "Listen, Swan. Can you honestly tell me that you would be able to pass up the opportunity to be with a man like that? I mean it. When you're old and drooling on yourself in some nursing home somewhere, do you want to be kicking yourself, saying, 'Damn it! Why didn't I fuck that hot piece of mancake when I had the chance?' Do you really think you can live with  _that_?"

I actually snort out loud. Now that's a disturbing visual.

Alice sits up. "Seize the day! Carpe diem and all that shit! Go get your man, Bella!"

"Damn, woman! You get awfully feisty when you get laid, don't you?" I giggle. This is yet another reason why you just gotta love Alice.

She answers with a wicked grin. "Yep. Three orgasms will do that to a girl."

My jaw drops. "Hot damn," I mutter. "I think I'm jealous."

"Oh, you have every reason to be. So maybe you should think twice before throwing away the opportunity to get a few. I'm sure the good doctor is more than willing to extend a helping hand in that department." She stands and stretches again; purely for dramatic effect I'm sure. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to bed. And this time, actually sleep."

Yes. Most definitely jealous.

I watch Alice as she saunters over to her room, as her little "carpe diem" speech resonates through my mind.

I am a big believer in living with no regrets.

Which would I regret more; taking the plunge and accepting whatever I can have with Edward, or taking the safe route and backing off?

They say the heart wants what the heart wants.  _Or maybe it should be the ovaries want what the ovaries want_. I almost laugh at myself to think I even have a choice in the matter.

**XXX**

It amazes me sometimes the way my mind wanders. Especially when I'm stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.

I have this theory that clothing shrinks if left in the closet for a while. I'm quite certain that fabric fibers contract with disuse or something. Denim seems to be especially susceptible to this phenomenon.

I am now wondering if this theory could apply to vaginas, too. I mean, I am well aware that hymens don't regenerate. But I can't help but speculate whether the insides of my lady parts have reverted back to their "original" state due to long-time lack of use.

And why would I be thinking of such things?

Oh, no particular reason.

I am a bundle of nervous energy on my drive to the hospital this Monday morning. Not only do I start my first day in Labor and Delivery with the infamous Dr. McCarty—which, I am sure, will be very interesting—but I'm also on call again tonight.

With Edward.

With Edward and a lonely on-call room.

A girl's mind can wander to some pretty interesting places with  _that_  equation.

Though that makes me wonder where my dirty little mind is actually allowed to go. I'm rather befuddled after my last exchange with Dr. Enigmatic, and I'm at a loss as to where we actually left things.

 _Must resist urge to re-analyze the situation again_. That's all I've been doing for the past twenty-four hours. It's ridiculously pathetic. And it isn't getting me anywhere but more confused…and sexually frustrated.

But good God, is it too much to hope there will at least be more kissing? And soon? The ovaries, girlie-bits, and brain are in unanimous agreement about that.

**XXX**

Seeing Jasper and Alice together at morning rounds feels more than a little bit odd, mainly because I can't look Jasper in the eye without being reminded of Alice's "triple O" comment.

I try really, really hard not to be jealous of the way they look at each other, and I remind myself that their relationship was a long time coming.

… _a long time coming…_

 _No_. I did  _not_  just think that.

I mumble a quick "later" as I hurry off to begin my patient rounds. This is going to be a long day. I can feel it.

I make it over to L&D after I finish and find Emmett at the nurses' station writing in a chart.

"Dr. McCarty?" I say tentatively. I'm sure he remembers that I'll be working with him for the next two weeks.

"Bella!" He greets me with a low chuckle. "I've been expecting you. I even have the smelling salts ready," he teases, and actually pulls out a small vial from his lab coat pocket.

"Oh, you're real proud of yourself for that one, aren't you?" I quirk my eyebrow and scowl at him. "That bit is getting a tad old, don't you think?"

He grins, flashing those dimples. How can anyone be annoyed at an overgrown twelve-year-old with dimples? "Oh, it will never get old, Bella. Trust me. But if it ever does, you gave me a whole slew of new material to work with last weekend."

I do a mental face-palm and groan at the realization that this is going to be a very,  _very_  long day indeed.

Despite the fact that Emmett is indeed an immature mutant, he is great to work with, and I'm absolutely loving Labor and Delivery. Emmett has a wonderful, buoyant bedside manner, and he obviously enjoys what he does and seems to like teaching as well. He lets me do as much as I want to do, and he even allows me to assist the first delivery of the day.

Emmett also has me starting all the IVs for the new admissions. I'm thrilled, because it's great practice—but it unnerves me that he seems to enjoy watching over my shoulder once he notices my tremor. Which of course, makes the tremor even worse. It pisses me off—and I tell him so—but he just laughs it off and tells me I'm a freak of nature, and he can't understand how it's physically possible that I get each IV in on the first try every single time.

Stupid Jolly-Green-Giant.

Lunchtime actually sneaks up on me, which surprises the hell out of me considering I usually live for my next meal. Alice texts me and says to meet her in the residents' lounge. Emmett accompanies me, and when we get there, Alice and Jasper are already there.

And so is Edward.

With his mad sex-hair.

And his beautiful, sonnet-worthy lips.

And his amazing green eyes…which capture mine immediately.

I get a fleeting sense of déjà-vu. Only this time, instead of making me feel like I want to crawl under the nearest rock, his gaze causes a delicious warmth in my chest that sends my heart racing and makes me lick my suddenly dry lips.

"Hey, Emmett," he says, but doesn't take his eyes off of me. "Bella," he adds softly with a slight nod, and the left corner of his lips lift into a tasty little smirk.

I'm semi-aware of conversation going on between Alice and Emmett, but all I hear is "Blah, blah, blah… _pizza_ …blah, blah, blah-blah blah…"

Have I mentioned before that Edward has absolutely delectable lips?

"Are you okay with that, Bella?"

 _Shit._  I'm being addressed. I pull my eyes away from Edward's tractor beam and redirect them to Alice. "Sounds good," I quickly reply, and she stares blankly at me.

"Really? You'll actually go for sushi?" she asks, incredulous.

 _Fuck!_  Where did that come from? I thought I was agreeing to pizza! Weren't they talking about pizza? My eyes dart around to each person in the room, each watching me expectantly. "Umm…sure. They have cooked food too, right? Like chicken teriyaki or something?"

Edward shakes his head. "No, this place only serves sushi. But they have cooked rolls, of course. It's very good."

I chew on my lip nervously, my stomach rolling a bit.

I don't  _do_ sushi. It reminds me of the stuff my dad used as bait for fishing. And I have no desire to eat anything rolled in seaweed, either. The thought alone makes me want to gag. Alice has been harassing me to try it since we moved in together, but there are some things I just won't do.

"Oh, well, umm…" I shoot Alice a dirty look when I notice she's actually enjoying this. Her smug fuckery inspires me to stand up for myself. "Didn't you guys say something about pizza?"

"Oh, Bella. You're such a chickenshit."

_Fucking Alice. As soon as I get home, I'm going to throw away her coffee maker._

"Eh, I'm with you," Emmett says. "That yuppie crap never fills me up, anyway. Pizza works for me." He flashes me a smile, and at that moment, I decide that I officially adore Emmett.

Lunch at the pizza place is…interesting. First of all, watching Emmett eat is an experience in and of itself. He orders three slices of Sicilian, and I swear—he eats each piece in four or five monstrous bites. I watch him in awe, wondering how he doesn't choke.

Alice and Jasper are in their own little love bubble. If I weren't so happy for them, they'd make me nauseous.

Okay, they are making me a little bit nauseous.

And then there is Edward.

Edward sits across from me, chatting mostly with Emmett but also including the rest of us. Every now and again, I feel his foot brush against mine as he shifts his long legs, which is driving me kind of crazy. I seem to have developed restless leg syndrome myself, because my legs don't seem to want to stay still, and my left foot keeps on bouncing.

"So, how are you liking Labor and Delivery, Bella?" Edward asks.

Emmett pipes in immediately. "I'm really proud of her. I haven't needed the smelling salts once. But the day is still young."

Alice snickers, and I roll my eyes. "Definitely getting old, Emmett," I mutter, and give him the stink-eye.

"Oh no, I think it's still got some mileage left in it. Unless you'd prefer to talk about the other night at the bar," he quips wickedly. "Would you rather discuss what happened after the E-Man took you home?"

Edward chimes in immediately as my face practically goes up in flames. "How about we discuss how many times you and Rosalie got caught in the—"

"So, Jasper!" I interrupt. "Are you happier now that you're finished with the Cooch Clinic?"

Jasper laughs. "Much. I'm definitely happy to be in the OR," he replies definitively, and I'm so relieved for the subject change. From there, we derail from the Bella-bashing wagon and stay in safer waters for the remainder of the short lunch break.

Once we get back to the hospital, everyone says quick goodbyes before dispersing back to work. Edward turns to me before leaving. "I'll see you later tonight, Bella."

I bite my lip and nod. And being the complete dork that I am, I'll be counting down the minutes.

**XXX**

During a delivery later that afternoon, Emmett warns me that he's going to have to perform an episiotomy and shoots me a concerned look. "You okay?" he asks after he hands the wailing new baby girl off to the nurse.

"I know you're just dying for an excuse to use those smelling salts, but I'm really fine," I assure him. "I really think it was just the initial shock the first time."

Emmett grins at me and raises his eyebrows. "All right, then," he nods, and proceeds to suture the episiotomy while he chats pleasantly with the mother.

I was right, because this time, luckily, it doesn't bother me at all. Which is a good thing—because mid-way through, Emmett stops and turns to me.

"Think you can finish this up for me?" he asks.

I stare at him wide-eyed to see if he's just looking for a reaction or if he's actually serious.

"Really?" I ask, dubious.

He offers me the suturing material and the needle-holder. "Cullen told me you've been practicing a lot. He says you're pretty good."

_He did?_

I'm dumbfounded and unexpectedly overcome with a strange emotion. I almost want to hug Emmett right now, and I can't even put into words what I want to do to Edward.

Instead, I just smile and graciously take the instrument from him. I take a deep breath and try to focus and control my tremor while he patiently watches me finish the repair.

By the end of my first full day in Labor and Delivery, I'm riding on a euphoric high. I absolutely loved following the patients from their initial admission in early labor all the way through to their deliveries. I can completely understand why doctors specialize in OB/GYN now. There is nothing I've done in medicine up to this point that compares with the feeling you get after watching a new mother holding a just-born baby in her arms for the first time, and knowing you played a part in getting her to that moment.

"Ya done good today, kid," Emmett tells me as we finish up for the day, giving me a gentle nudge with his elbow.

I smile broadly at him. "Thanks," I answer simply, but his compliment makes my day. "Thanks for everything, actually."

He just grins back with a small grunt of acknowledgement. Emmett kind of reminds me of a big teddy bear. I'm going to enjoy working with him for the next two weeks. "You're on call tonight, aren't you?"

I just nod in response. I feel a flutter of nervous butterflies knowing I'll be spending the night with Edward…Well, sort of.

"Rose is on tonight. I'm gonna go say hi." He puts on his lab coat, and when he looks back at me, I see a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Tell Cullen to give me a call tomorrow."

I cock my eyebrow at him. "Sure thing, Emmett. Have a good night. I'll see you Wednesday."

As I head over to the residents' lounge, the nervous flutters intensify to an almost sick feeling in my gut. I need to pull myself together.

I'm being absolutely ridiculous. There is nothing to be nervous about.

_Right?_

But—I wonder if Edward will act any differently toward me?

What if he changed his mind? What if he regrets kissing me? What if he just pretends nothing ever happened?

I stop dead in my tracks as I realize that not only are my hands trembling out of control, but I almost feel like the rest of my body is as well.

 _I'm being ridiculous. There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about._  I chant this repeatedly in my head as I take several deep breaths before entering the residents' lounge.

And sure enough, there's Dr. Fuck-Me, sitting at the large table with his laptop. He glances up at me as I walk in, and my heart predictably goes into overdrive.

"How was your day, dear?" he asks cheekily and greets me with my favorite asymmetrical grin. "What's for dinner?"

I immediately smile and roll my eyes, more at myself than at Edward. I relax in spite of all my stupid neuroses. I was so afraid that things would be weird between us, but he's still the same food-grubbing wiseass he was before.

"Meatloaf," I answer. I notice his smile instantly falls.

"Meatloaf?" he repeats, and he makes it sound like I just told him I was serving something repulsive. Like raw fish wrapped in seaweed.

"Meatloaf," I confirm, and my brow furrows. "Something wrong with that?"

"No, nothing." His jaw twitches and he rubs the back of his neck.  _Liar._ "It's just that…" I watch him and wait. He looks uncomfortable. "Nothing."

I cock my eyebrow. "You don't have to eat it, you know. It won't hurt my feelings."

Now I'm lying. It would totally hurt my feelings.

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head. "No, no. I want your meatloaf." His lips twitch into that fuckhot smirk of his. "I  _really_  want it."

I immediately flush and sweat, and I curse at myself for letting him get the best of me again.

_Stupid, stupid girl!_

I go to the fridge and pull out dinner, then pop the containers into the microwave. I keep my back to him while I wait for the food to heat.

"So I take it you're not a big meatloaf fan?" I finally say. I can't say I'm not disappointed. I have to confess—I made it specifically with him in mind.

"Well, the only meatloaf I've ever had was my mother's. And I can't say that turkey and tofu meatloaf was my favorite food."

 _Turkey and tofu?_ Yeesh. No wonder why he doesn't like it.

I take the dishes from the microwave and place one of them in front of him. "I promise you, this is  _not_  your mother's meatloaf."

Charlie had once asked me to make meatloaf for his birthday one year. My mom was not the best cook in the world, to put it lightly, so as I got older and more into cooking, my dad would request me to do it more and more often. I had found a great recipe—through The Food Network, of course—and doctored it up to my own taste. It became one of my parents' favorites. Even I have to admit—it's really,  _really_  good.

He inhales the aroma and smiles at the three large slices. "No, I have a feeling it's not."

I watch with nervous anticipation as he takes a small, tentative bite. He instantly smiles and lets his eyes roll back into his head. "Holy fuck, Bella. This definitely is  _not_ my mother's meatloaf," he gushes, and I relish the surge of pleasant satisfaction that floods through me.

Just as I'm about to take a bite, the lounge door flies open. "Hey, guys," Emmett's deep voice greets us. "Damn, it smells really good in here."

Emmett joins us at the table and eyes our food. "Where did you get that from?"

I chuckle to myself, but Edward glowers at him. "Nowhere," he replies quickly. "What's going on, Em?"

"You bring that from home?" he continues, and I see Edward grimace while Emmett winks at me with a sly grin. "No, I know Edward didn't bring this, so it must be you, Bells."

"Mmmhm. Want a taste?" I offer. I suddenly feel a little awkward that my food-bribery has been discovered.

"Well, I see you have extra there." He ogles Edward's plate, and Edward does not like it one bit. His jaw is twitching like crazy, and he takes another big bite, possessively marking his territory. "That was awfully generous of you to bring some for Edward, too."

Edward looks like a dog that will defend his food to the death. "Don't you have somewhere to go?" he grumbles menacingly.

Emmett ignores him, and his grin broadens and his dimples deepen. "Especially after the whole pager ordeal."

Edward blanches, and the look he gives Emmett is downright lethal. I look between the two of them impatiently. " _What_ pager ordeal?"

Emmett lets out a deep chuckle. "You mean the E-man over here didn't tell you he had me paging him while he was in the OR last week? Just so a certain cute PA student could fish his pager out of his pocket?"

My jaw drops open, and I realize I'm gaping like a fish.

It was Emmett. Each. Fucking. Time.

 _That's_  why Edward didn't have me call back the second page.

_Stupid, arrogant, green-eyed jackass!_

I turn to Edward, who looks extremely pissed, but a smug smile is winning over his face.

"You!" I hiss angrily. "You didn't!"

Edward looks away with a now full-fledged guilty smirk as he runs his fingers through his hair.

I'm speechless as I glance back and forth between Emmett and Edward, who both look way too amused for my liking.

I shake my head, my jaw clenched so tight I'm afraid I'll break a molar. "Why you—"

"I know. He's a complete jerk. That was completely unprofessional." Emmett happily adds fuel to the fire. "He doesn't deserve your cooking, Bella. I think you should give it to me, instead."

I am beyond pissed at the both of them, but Emmett is just too funny. I bite the inside of my cheek to fight back a smile. "So that's what this is all about, Emmett? You'll throw your buddy under the bus for some food?"

"In a heartbeat," Emmett replies, grinning like a madman.

The scene really is incredibly comical. Edward looks like he wants to knock Emmett unconscious and has his forearm protectively wrapped around his dish. Emmett is enjoying this way too much, and I just want to take the both of them by the hair and knock their heads together.

Now  _that's_ a visual I actually enjoy.

I stand up and take my dinner with me. "You know what? You're both complete jackasses. I'm going to eat in the cafeteria.  _In peace._  Page me if there's anything going on. You want some meatloaf, Emmett? Knock yourself out."

And with that, I take my food and my lab coat and go, leaving the two fools to fight it out while I plot my revenge.


	16. Chapter 16

That little shit.

My mind is racing as I sit in the cafeteria poking around at my meatloaf.

I should be pissed. Really,  _really_  pissed.

But am I?

I'm not exactly sure. If anything, I'm actually…pleased. Does it make me a little twisted that I  _like_  the fact that Edward went to such lengths to mess with me?

I toss this around in my head for a while, when the sound of a chair scraping across the floor startles me. I quickly look up and find myself face to face with Dr. Fucks-With-Me.

I draw in a deep breath and wait to see what he has to say. I notice he brought his food with him.

"You're not really mad, are you?" he asks softly. Velvet voice is in full effect. He looks a little nervous.

_Good._

I glance around the room. I'm not sure what I want to say. Am I mad?

_Nah._

Do I want him to squirm a little, just like he made me?

_Hell fucking yes._

I give myself a moment to put my thoughts together. I can see his sexy masseter muscle twitching away.

Am I enjoying this a little?

Oh, yeah.  _Game on, baby._

I glance up at him and give him a pointed look. "I never expected a guy like you would need to take such drastic measures to get a girl into your pants."

 _Ha_. I'm rather pleased with myself for that one.

A smug smile creeps across his lips. "A guy like me? And exactly what kind of guy would that be?"

I roll my eyes and bite back a grin. "Cocky. Arrogant. Immature. Jackass." The grin breaks loose. "Would you like me to continue?"

"Well, you left out charming." That earns him an eye-roll. "And generous."

What?

While I'm stumbling for a response, he quickly reaches into his messenger bag, pulls out something, and tosses it to me. I'm surprised to see that it's a bag of Hershey's Dark Chocolate minis.

Hershey's makes a bag of dark chocolate minis? With dark chocolate Krackel and dark chocolate Mr. Goodbar? How did I not know about this?

"I figured the least I could do was bring dessert. I saw these and thought they'd be right up your alley."

He brought me dessert. Not just dessert, but dark chocolate.

I may have swooned. Just a little.

"I know it may have been a little juvenile," he admits with a sly grin and leans closer, resting on his lovely forearms. "But I couldn't help myself. It's your fault, you know. Your blush is downright irresistible. If you weren't so damn pretty, I would have left you alone."

Oh good God… _yes, most definitely swooning_. And the room just got a few degrees warmer. I should be absolutely ashamed of myself to let his cheesiness affect me this way.

I never knew I was so easy.

He pulls out all the stops, flashing beautiful green puppy-dog eyes. "Forgive me?"

I bite at my lip, not wanting to give in so easily. "How can I if you never actually apologized?"

"The chocolates weren't enough?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "They were a good start."

He grins again. "All right, then. I'm sorry."

I take in the smug smirk, and I quirk an eyebrow at him. "No, you're really not."

His smile broadens. "You're right. I'm not. I'd do it all over again without giving it a second thought."

His shmexy grin is making me weak. I let out a dramatic sigh and shake my head. Edward moistens his lips—a new little Edwardism that I'm noticing he does more and more—and I nearly come undone. I'm  _this close_  to crawling over the table and molesting him. I have to change gears.

"I see your dinner survived Emmett. How did you manage to keep him off your plate?" I ask.

He chuckles. "I made sure he wouldn't want it."

"Oh really? How so?"

He flashes a wicked grin. "I licked it."

I actually snort and almost choke on my own spit. The evil ovaries remind me of his earlier suggestive comment about wanting my meatloaf, and now all I can think is… _Edward licked my meatloaf._

I put my hands over my red-hot face and shake my head in disbelief.

I peek through my fingers at him, and Edward waggles his eyebrows. "I fight dirty."

Oh, yes you do, Edward. You certainly do.

**XXX**

The night seems to fly by. I'm getting used to the routine, and now that I know what is expected of me it makes everything go smoothly. I'm a tad bit resentful that it's so busy because I was foolishly hoping to spend some time alone with Edward, but I realize that's not exactly realistic. The floor settles down around eleven, and by the time we head back to the lounge, I'm dragging.

I flop onto the couch and Edward studies me, concerned. "Why don't you go get some rest? The floor is quiet."

 _No_. I finally have a moment alone with him, and I don't want to waste it. "I'm fine," I say simply.

For a moment he looks like he wants to protest, but instead, he settles into the chair next to me, leaning back and extending his long legs out in front of him. "Are you always this stubborn?" he asks with a wry grin.

"Are you always this bossy?" I counter, returning his smile.

Edward holds my gaze. He then rests his head on the back of the chair and looks up at the ceiling while raking his hand through his crazy sex-hair.

"What am I going to do with you, Swan?" he says with a sigh.

I bite my lip. "I could offer a few suggestions," I actually say out loud, because I'm overtired and horny and I have no fucking filter.

His head jerks forward as he looks at me with a surprised and amused expression. I'm immediately embarrassed, and suddenly wish I could take the words back.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Um, yeah…you're right. I'm going to turn in. You can, you know, page me if you want me. I mean need me…you know, if there's a case…" I realize that I need to shut up and disappear. I stand up abruptly and awkwardly, but I'm caught off guard as Edward follows and gently grabs my wrist.

He watches me intently as I turn toward him. He releases my wrist, and his lovely fingers slowly graze up my bare arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake…he then cradles my chin, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. I don't even dare to breathe as he lowers his lips to mine, placing a delicate kiss on the right corner of my mouth.

And another on the left corner.

Then finally placing a tender, but all too brief, kiss square on my lips. He pulls back enough to look at me.

"I have quite a few ideas of my own, Bella. None of which are appropriate right now."

 _My, oh my_.

He takes a step back, and I'm mentally cursing at the injustice of it all as the moment slips away.

"I was hoping, if you're not too tired tomorrow, we could do breakfast again," he offers.

Mouth seems to have forgotten how to work, so I just nod.

"Good," he answers with a gentle smile. "Now please, go get some sleep."

I don't argue…I just murmur a barely intelligible "good night," as I wander to my call room in a bit of a daze.

**XXX**

Though I was keeping my fingers crossed to get a page during the night, such was not the case, and my alarm wakes me with a start. I feel that familiar nervous excitement in my belly at the anticipation of spending time with Edward outside the hospital.

I chat briefly with Alice and Jasper, present my morning cases to Baker without a hitch, and rush off to get through my morning rounds. I actually enjoy them because they are now all postpartum patients I know from L&D.

I finish up and head back to the lounge. I can't help but smile when I see that he's already there, waiting for me. He looks up from his laptop when he hears me enter.

"Hey," is all I can come up with. Brilliant.

"Hey," he answers with his wonderful lopsided smirk. "Hungry?"

 _In more ways than you can imagine_. I stifle a giggle.

"Famished."

"Pancakes?"

"Definitely."

The diner is less crowded than the last time, probably because it is early in the morning on a weekday. Edward orders his omelet, and I get the shimmy-worthy blueberry pancakes again.

"So, tell me a little bit about yourself."

My brow furrows and I grin. "Is this an interview?" I ask.

He grins back. "Isn't this customary? The whole, 'getting to know you' ritual?"

I giggle. The good doctor seems a little socially awkward. It's kind of… sweet. "Of course. I wouldn't want to stray from protocol. What would you like to know?"

He taps his lip while he thinks. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," I blurt immediately.  _Specifically the shade of your eyes._  "Yours?"

He smirks. "Chocolate brown."  _Damnit_. Cheeky bastard. "Favorite Movie?"

I think for a moment. I have quite a few, but one immediately pops into my head. " _Pretty Woman_."

He chuckles softly. "Old school romantic, eh?"

I shake my head. "Nah, I just have a thing for prostitutes." He snorts. "What's your favorite movie?"

" _The Shawshank Redemption,_ " he replies without hesitation.

"Oooh, good one! I must have seen that at least 6 times."

The waitress then shows up with our food. Before I begin to butter up my pancakes, I ask if he'd like any. He politely declines. He's about to cut into his omelet when he hesitates and looks up at me. "Would you like to try some?"

Well, color me stupefied.

"Sure…thank you."

He cuts a piece and places it on my plate. "You should be honored. I don't usually share my food."

 _I noticed_. "Oh, believe me, I definitely am. Why is that?"

He just shrugs. "I don't know. Only child syndrome or something."

"Hmm…I don't know about that. I'm an only child too, you know," I challenge.

He gives me that sly grin. "Well, you're just special."

"So I've heard," I reply dryly, and I turn my attention to my wonderful blueberry pancake heaven.

We eat and continue the getting-to-know-you discussion. Edward is surprisingly easy to talk to, and the conversation flows freely and effortlessly. Once we're finished and waiting for our check, Edward studies me curiously and leans closer. "Tell me something unique about yourself that no one else would know."

I'm slightly taken aback by his unusual question. I mull it over it for a moment. "I need to think about it. You first," I counter.

"Well, I learned my alphabet backwards before I learned it the right way," he says.

"Really? How?"

"I had this little desk that had the alphabet painted across the top of it. Apparently I learned it from right to left."

How cute. I chuckle softly. "Maybe you were Hebrew in a previous life."

He smiles. "That's an interesting possibility. Your turn."

I grimace with frustration. "I can't think of anything that unique."

"Oh, come on. There has to be something," he persists.

I chew on my lip as I try to come up with something while he watches me expectantly. Only one thing comes to mind, and it's stupid as hell.

"Waiting…"

I groan. "The only unique thing that comes to mind is that I have a freckle between two of my toes. I found it when I was maybe four years old, and I remember trying to scrub it off in the bath because I thought it was just dirt."

He laughs. "That's awesome," he says, and I can't believe I just embarrassed myself. "Though now I kind of wish you hadn't told me that."

Great. Now he realizes that I really  _am_  special. "Sorry, didn't mean to blemish your image of me."

"Oh, it's not that at all," he says and licks his lips… _good God, those lips_ …"It's just that now I want to see it. And it makes me want to inspect you for any other distinguishing markings."

 _Oh. Mah. Gawd_. I think my panties just incinerated.

I can feel the all-too-familiar heat in my cheeks, as well as in some  _other_  parts of my anatomy, and I cannot think of a single intelligible response.

Edward shakes his head and scrubs the back of his neck. "You're killing me, Bella," he says softly. "How many more weeks do you have left on this rotation?"

"Three-and-a-half. But why does that matter?" My voice sounds pleading and whiny. I'm so pathetic.

"Because you're still my student. Because it's difficult enough to keep my hands off you as it is. And because I don't want to feel like I'm sneaking around with you. You deserve better than that."

_Fuck._

I want to pout. I want to protest. I want to tell him to get over his stupid moral bullshit.

But I can't. He's trying to do the right thing. I can't let the fucking ovaries drive the bus. So I just resign to let them continue back seat driving and pray that the next three-and-a-half weeks go by very,  _very_ fast.

Edward walks me back to my car, and after a quick glance around, he leaves me with an increasingly frustrating, chaste kiss goodbye.

This is going to be the longest rotation  _ever_.

**XXX**

Wednesday morning, Alice, Jasper, and I meet at the auditorium for Grand Rounds. As I take a seat, my eyes start doing their customary Edward search…but he's nowhere to be found. My disappointment feels frivolous and immature, so I swallow it down and decide to actually pay attention to the lecture.

That resolution is pathetically short-lived, because a mere moment later, someone takes the seat next to me as the lights dim. I know without even looking that it's Edward.

Every cell in my body knows it and hums with hyperawareness of his presence.

I keep my eyes trained on the lecture, but every other part of me is focused on him.

On his breathing. And I wonder if it's as labored as mine.

On his right leg, which brushes up against the leg I have crossed toward him.

On his arms, which he folds across his chest.

On his lovely long fingers, which every so often brush my arm and cause an odd twinge in my belly.

I spend the lecture thinking about those fingers.

And his lips.

For the next hour I imagine all of the places I want them to be.

By the time the lecture ends and the lights come up, I am a hopelessly aroused hot mess.

"That was an interesting lecture," Edward murmurs into my ear before he stands to go.

_Good God, you can say that again._

"Morning, Bells," Emmett greets me with a playful smile. I'm embarrassed that I didn't even realize he had been sitting on the other side of Edward the entire time.

We all agree to meet up at the lounge for lunch again, and Edward leaves me with a nod of his head and a grin as he and Jasper head off to the OR. Emmett then accompanies me over to L&D.

"So, tell me, Bella. What's a guy gotta do around here to get some of that meatloaf?"

I have to choke back a laugh, because meatloaf will forever hold a different meaning for me now. "Ratting out your friend probably isn't the best way to go about it," I tease.

"Eh, maybe, but it was just so much more fun. What exactly  _is_  the best way to go about it?" he asks and waggles his eyebrows.

I smile and shake my head. Emmett certainly is a one-of-a-kind. I proceed to explain that I've been "feeding" Edward as payment for suturing lessons.

"Suturing lessons? Is that what you kids call it these days?"

He chuckles as I smack his beefy upper arm. "Aw, c'mon Bells. I'm teaching you stuff too. Don't I deserve some as well?" he whines.

I consider it for a moment, and a wicked grin takes over my face as an idea pops into my head. "I'll tell you what. I'll bring in some meatloaf for you tomorrow— _if_ you do me a favor in return."

Emmett eyes me curiously. "Okay, I'm game."

"I was wondering if you could give me Edward's pager number. Just in case I ever need it."

Emmett narrows his eyes at me and begins to smirk. "Why do I have a feeling you're up to no good?"

I look back at him with innocent doe-eyes, and I bat my eyelashes. "Why, I have no idea what you mean."

Emmett grin spreads from ear to ear. "You got yourself a deal, little lady."

Working in L&D makes the day go by really quickly. It's interesting and fast-paced with so many things to learn.

Emmett and I go out for lunch with Alice, Jasper and Edward again to some little Tex-Mex place that makes really amazing and really  _huge_ burritos. They're so big I actually split one with Alice. I finally realize that Edward's restless legs and foot grazes are anything but accidental, and when I try to ignore him he only becomes more insistent. I eventually respond to his little game of footsie with a light kick to his shin, which only seems to egg him on even more. I finally change tactics and bring my foot to brush the inside of his thigh, right above his knee, which actually makes his cheeks flush slightly and shuts down his little game instantly.

_Ha! Match point._

When lunch is over, I try to brush aside the disappointment that I won't see him again until the following day.

That night, I find myself lonelier than expected with Alice on call at the hospital. So I try to keep myself occupied as much as possible. I call my parents and let them know I'm busy, not dead. I don't even consider mentioning Edward when my mom predictably asks if I'm seeing anyone.

Technically, I'm not.

Right?

I call my friend Angela back at home and catch up on the latest Forks gossip.

I consider calling Jacob…and then think better of it.

I read a little fanfiction. It's my secret guilty pleasure that I'd never admit to another living soul. That's another thing that should have a surgeon general's warning,because it's so ridiculously addictive.

I finally turn in for the night while I think again of Edward's lovely fingers and lips. And maybe a few other parts of his anatomy I've yet to meet.

**XXX**

Thursday can't go by fast enough for me, probably because I'm on call tonight. The day doesn't exactly drag, but L&D is a little quieter than usual for some reason. Edward and Jasper get tied up in the OR so they don't meet us for lunch, and Alice is post-call, which leaves me alone with Emmett for lunch. On the upside, he truly enjoys the large hunk of meatloaf I bring him and devours it as if he hasn't eaten in weeks. He's quite chatty and shares some entertaining patient stories that I could never repeat in polite company.

When the day finally finishes, I practically sprint to the lounge, but Edward isn't there yet. I heat up dinner, excitement bubbling away in my chest as I anticipate his reaction to my favorite dish.

Like Edward, there are a few things I know I do well. And if he liked my lasagna, he's going to absolutely love my eggplant parmesan.

Edward opens the door to the lounge a few minutes later with a delectable smile on his face. "Mmmm…something smells delicious," he says immediately.

I love how he watches me as I put the food on the table, and how his eyes light up as he inspects his dish. I love even more how he lets his eyes roll back in his head when he eats. "This," he says, pointing with his fork to his food, "This is my favorite yet. I can't believe how good it is."

I just sigh and smile. If he only knew how happy that makes me.

The night, like the day in L&D, is unusually quiet. There is a quick case in the ER that turns out, luckily for the mother, to be just a threatened miscarriage, but not much is happening on the floor. But I'm selfishly grateful to have time to sit around and bullshit with Edward. I was beyond happy to have him all to myself.

After a while, we sit together in a comfortable silence as I study and Edward works on his laptop. "Oh, I almost forgot," he says abruptly, standing up and going to his locker. I watch with curiosity as he pulls out a plastic bag and hands it to me.

"What is this?" I ask.

"It's my suturing kit. I'm giving it to you."

I'm completely taken aback. "I can't take this from you," I protest, feeling awkward.

"Of course you can. I don't use it anymore. You've given it the most action it's seen in ages."

I'm so overwhelmed by the gesture that I don't even think before I jump up and hug him. "Thank you, that's just so...thank you," I gush, and then realize I've initiated uninvited full-body contact and suddenly pull away sheepishly. "Sorry," I mutter.

Much to my relief, Edward doesn't look like he minded at all. "I'm not," he replies.

We just stand like that for a moment, and I briefly wonder if he'll kiss me again...

Please, please _, please_  let him kiss me again!

I'm thinking he actually might when he licks his lips, but then…

His fucking pager goes off.

Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_!

We get called to L&D for a patient who is thirty-eight weeks gestation with ruptured membranes. She is scheduled for a Cesarean section in one week. She has already had two previous cesarean sections.

I grin and commence the internal happy dance.

We're getting to do a Cesarean section.  _This is just too perfect_.

Edward talks to the patient and gets consent. He then tells the nurse to get her prepped for the OR.

When Edward begins to scrub, I stay back behind him and silently watch as he vigorously and methodically runs the scrub sponge over each lovely finger, one by one, eventually moving to his hands, and finally to his forearms.

When he's sufficiently well scrubbed and he is starting to rinse away the soap, I slyly take out my cell phone and dial his pager number.

It takes a moment before the blasted thing starts to sound off.

He immediately freezes and I see his body tense. He looks around and behind him, then straight at me.

Before he can say a word, I step closer and give him the widest, sweetest smile I can muster. He takes in my expression, and his eyes widen.

"Would you like me to get that for you, Dr. Cullen?"


End file.
